


Being Selfish

by JulianObviouslyLovesToad



Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Excessive Drinking, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mentions of Bad Behavior, Mentions of Top surgery, Self-Esteem Issues, Spoilers, Tag As I Go, Trans Dadsona (Dream Daddy), anger issues, mentions of bottom surgery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-02-17 23:58:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 30,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13088160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JulianObviouslyLovesToad/pseuds/JulianObviouslyLovesToad
Summary: Chris is an asshole, and he knows it. Something about Brian kinda makes him want to be a better person, but it's going to be a struggle.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The "Mentions of X Surgery" tags are more for the second chapter and beyond, but I wanted readers to be prepared for that going in. Rating will go up.
> 
> For those of you coming over here from my Hugo fic, please be aware that this story will not be as happy and perfect as the other one was.

"I feel like such an ass... for believing that for a second!" Chris hissed, reeling back, winding up to throw a fist at Brian's face. The bigger man covered his head for a moment, but thought better of it, catching the smaller body as it lunged toward him. The leanly muscled man lost his balance for a moment, his upper body teetering over the edge of the carriage, only to find himself in a protective embrace a moment later. Chris' heart beat fast in his throat, his life flashing before his eyes.

"Wait, please," Brian said, holding the smaller body close to his own. He threaded thick fingers in the longer hair on top of the other's head. "If you want to hit me, please wait until we're on solid ground," he whispered, stroking the fade as the other shook in his arms, "we're not caged in, so it's dangerous to do that.

"I'm really sorry, Chris," Brian continued as he petted the quivering man's fade, "I really did just want to impress you. I didn't mean to come off as rude, I really didn't. I should have said something sooner." Brian sniffed, lifting a hand to wipe away an imaginary tear before replacing the hand on a back that had finally ceased shaking. "If- if you want to hit me when we get back on the ground, you can. Just... just not in front of the girls, alright?"

"God, Brian," the blonde said, pulling his face up from the other's chest. "I'm so sorry," he managed through gritted teeth. He hefted himself back into the seat next to the other and wiped at his eyes. He flicked the moisture from his thumbs before he went on; "I don't really want to hit you. I just let my anger get the better of me.

"I don't know why you want to hang out with me. I'm such a piece of shit," he muttered. His shoulders hiked and he tensed when a warm, broad hand was placed at the back of his neck.

"You're not that," Brian said softly. 

"I just tried to hit you," the blonde said, scrubbing his hands over his face. "I haven't taken a swing at someone since before Amanda was born. What the fuck is wrong with me?

"I'd swear this isn't who I am, but I guess it is if what just happened is any indication." Chris looked out over the fairgrounds, sighing heavily, trying his damnedest not to shrug off the hand that somehow found skin despite his two layers of flannel and cotton tee. "I just get so damned aggressive around you that I- I don't know why." Brian made a quiet noise that had the shorter man turning to look at him with a brow raised. His face was nearly glowing with a blush and the hand that wasn't occupied with Chris' neck was in his own hair, scrubbing his fingers through it awkwardly. 

"I was kinda hoping it was because you had a little crush on me," he admitted, looking off somewhere over the horizon, an awkward smile on his lips. "I mean, that was part of why I tried so hard to impress you, but," and his smile fell away, "I've seen how you act with Robert, so I guess that's not the case, huh?" Brian dropped the hand that was in his hair to the seat next to him and took back the hand that had been on Chris' neck. The blonde quickly ran a hand through his short hair, folding it back into it's correct shape as he turned toward Brian.

"Woah, now," he said, both brows raised, "Robert and I are just friends," he assured. "He and I are both, like, so messed up that if we tried a relationship, we'd both be found dead on his kitchen floor in a puddle of whiskey and soggy cigarette butts whenever someone gets curious enough to check up on him. That's- yeah, that's not a path I want to go down. I want to live long enough to see my baby girl get married or, like, start a business or something. 

"Don't get me wrong. I care about Robert, but I'm not about to, like, make his alcoholism and depression worse." He then stopped to think and gave a heavy sigh. "Shit," he said on a heavy breath, "maybe I already do that when we hang out." He was quiet for a moment, staring down at his leg that was touching Brian's since he'd brought it up on the bench. After a long moment, he said quietly; "...and you deserve better."

"Ah," Brian said, a bit startled. He gave such a fatherly frown that Chris couldn't bear to look. "I don't think- I mean-" Brian stopped for a moment and took a deep breath. "Don't take this the wrong way, please, but," the redhead trailed off, meeting the other's eyes when he looked up. He tried to offer a small smile before he continued; "Isn't it less of a matter of what I deserve, and more of a matter of what I want?" At that, Chris looked away again, pink rising to his cheeks. 

"You should consider both," the blonde mumbled into his palm when he turned and rested his mouth against it, his elbow braced on the side of the carriage. "I'm an asshole. Seriously, just ask Craig."

"Craig adores you," Brian said, his words edged with confusion. 

"Yeah, but, like, mostly because we looked out for each other in college. But most of the stories you'll hear him tell are about me stealing something or breaking something or fighting someone," and he trailed off, deciding to try to spot their kids in the crowds. 

"People do that when they're young and stupid," Brian said with a firm nod afterward, even though the other wasn't looking. "He's told me stories about you doing nice things for him. He's also told me about how you walked drunk girls back to their dorms instead of trying to pick them up, and that's respectable. An... asshole... wouldn't do that."

"That's different, though," Chris said, frowning into his hand. He then let the hand drop to dangle over the railing. "Things are different with drunk girls. You have to, like, take care of people who can't- who don't have the mental faculties at the moment to take care of themselves."

"But not drunk guys?" Brian teased, trying to lighten the mood. 

"Nah. Drunk guys aren't as likely to be taken advantage of. I mean, I did, a few, but, ya know," Chris trailed off with a shrug. 

"You took advantage of drunk guys?"

"Only if they came on to me first," the blonde clarified. "I introduced a handful of college bros to butt stuff." Brian snorted out a small laugh. "Nah, but, like, I'm still an asshole. There's just varying degrees of assholishness." He gasped when one of Brian's hands rested over his on the bench, drawing it away quickly.

"Sorry," Brian said, giving a rather morose smile. 

"No, don't apologize. I'm just- not in a good place. You don't want to have to deal with my shit."

"I'd like to try," Brian offered quietly. Chris turned to look at him, pulling the sleeve of his flannel down to cover his tattoos that extended from his arm down his wrist and hand. His tired gray eyes were so wide in that moment, his voice small and weak when he asked;

"Why?" blandly.

"Ah, well-" Brian's hand went to scratch at his beard in an endearing gesture of nervousness as he trailed off. "I know there's a good guy in there, Chris. I've seen how you act with Amanda and Daisy. I'd like- I'd like to- I think if we could be honest and actually talk to each other, maybe we could be that easy going with each other."

"It's not hard to be a good person to such innocent creatures, Brian. If someone can't be nice to kids, they're probably not salvageable." Brian brightened immediately.

"So, you do think you're salvageable!" he nearly cheered. Chris' shoulders sagged. 

"I don't know, maybe," the blonde said honestly. "I just know I can't be a dick to kids or drunk girls."

"It's something," Brian said, trying one more time to place his hand over a smaller one. Chris let him that time, even though he turned away once more. 

There was a long moment of silence that wasn't entirely uncomfortable between the two. It was broken up by the ride operator informing everyone on it that the ride was working again. As the machine started to move, Chris turned his hand over under the light touch and gave Brian's a small squeeze before pulling it away.

"I guess we can talk about it later," the smaller man eventually mumbled.

"Promise?" Brian asked, his voice so hopeful that Chris couldn't help but wince.

"... yeah."


	2. Chapter 2

There are Things Chris doesn't talk about. The little known key to that vault is Irish Coffee. Not straight whiskey, which makes him giggly, but the too-sweet-bittersweet taste of a warm, earthy coffee with too much brown sugar and too much whiskey always had him drinking more than could keep his trap shut. 

As he cooked Amanda breakfast the day after the incident on the Ferris wheel, Chris put those Things in boxes in his head.

"Alright, spill dad," Amanda said, startling her father enough that he threw the spatula in surprise. "What are you thinking about right now? You didn't even notice me walk in," she said, giving an overdramatic grunt as she bent to pick up the spatula. 

"Pokemon," Chris said quickly as he snatched the spatula back to rinse it off. 

"Pokemon?" Amanda asked with a raised brow and a hand on her hip.

"Young Couples with a Steelix and Cloyster. What if a preteen gets the joke? Awful, just awful." He turned his attention back to the pancakes.

"You're that deep in thought over sex puns in Pokemon? Really?"

"Oh yes," the blonde said, putting a lightly browned pancake on a plate that was already heaped with bacon. "Children these days might get it, and it's only a matter of time until they're looking up Pokemon rule thirty-four." Amanda snorted.

"Seriously, dad," she started, getting in the silverware drawer to take out a fork and knife for each of them, "I know when you're thinking about something serious. So, what is it?" When the man hesitated for a moment, Amanda started guessing; "Is it Brian?" and hit the nail on the head with her first guess. Chris grimaced.

"Nonsense, Manda. What would make you think that?" he asked, loading another pancake onto the plate.

"Well, you flinched for one. But, like," and she took the plate she knew to be hers when a third pancake was stacked on top of the others. She drizzled them with syrup as she continued; "the two of you totally had a bonding moment last night, so," she trailed off, making a hand gesture that intended to get him to pick up where she left off. 

Chris looked at the plate in her hands for a long moment before unloading his two pancakes on a plate with only a few pieces of bacon.

"I suppose now isn't a good time to remind you to take it easy on your teeth, huh?" he asked as he rummaged through the refrigerator for a slice of sharp cheddar to place between his pancakes and bacon. 

"Nope," Amanda cheered, happy to be able to tear into her food when her father joined her at the table after turning off the stove and resting the cooling pan in the sink. "Besides," she said after she swallowed the first huge bite, "you and Brian shared a whole funnel cake, fried Oreos, fried green beans, fried mushrooms," and Christoph paled as she kept rattling off all the deep fried foods he'd consumed the previous night, "cheese sticks, cheese bites... What are you doing?" she asked when Chris pulled out his phone and started texting someone.

"Texting Craig," he answered. "I need to start doing a little more than jogging and push-ups to take care of myself."

"You added the jogging to what you already do," she supplied, raising a brow. "What more do you need? Don't tell me when you're going on a health kick, because I don't think I can deal with that. Wait until I leave to stock the 'fridge with kale, will ya?" Chris looked up from his phone.

"Have you ever seen raw kale? It's actually really pretty."

"Yeah, I saw that picture going around of the guy that bought his girlfriend a kale bouquet because he thought it was flowers," Amanda said around a mouthful of bacon. "But, really, you're good at distracting me, ya know? Like, it was adorable when you two shared a slice of frozen, chocolate-covered cheesecake. I kinda want to know what's going on there. It's like one minute you hate the guy, then I bribe a carny to get you two stuck up there and now it's like he's got a second pupper that can have chocolate without getting sick." Chris blinked slowly.

"Amanda Ann," he said, deadpan, "you did not just tell me you bribed a carny to get Brian and I stuck up there together."

"It was Daisy's idea," she said, then proceeded to stuff her face with what was left of her food so she wouldn't have to answer any questions. Chris took advantage of the same moment, cramming one end of his sandwich in his mouth. "Mn-nh!" Amanda groaned as she tried to chew her food quickly. "No, no," she said when she could, "I eat, you talk, then you eat and I talk. That's how this whole eating-while-talking thing works."

"You watch too much TV, Panda," Chris said with a shake of his head.

"Pot, meet kettle," she muttered, staring the man down. "But seriously, dad. What did you guys talk about? Is there any hope of salvaging this... whatever the two of you have going on? I think you two could be really good friends if you could just drop the competitive crap," she said, a slight frown on her features. "Maybe more, who knows?"

"Ah," he said dumbly. He didn't want to tell his baby girl that he'd taken a swing at Brian on the Ferris wheel. The exercise he got was supposed to help with his anger issues, his aerobics tapes good for a laugh if nothing else, and he kept his arms and chest strong with push-ups, squats when his legs weren't in too much pain. Adding a jog on top of everything else was supposed to have, and had been, keeping him from throwing things in a rage like he used to, after Alex had passed. "Well, um," he tried again, not sure if he really should tell his daughter any of what they talked about. Though, he figured, there was one safe subject as long as he didn't let her get too carried away with it. "He kind of admitted to, um, having a little bit of a crush on me." Amanda nearly spit out her food.

"I knew it!" she gasped, quickly reaching for her water when she inhaled a bit of bacon. Once it was clear her throat was unobstructed, Chris regarded her warily. "What?" she asked, leveling him with a half-hearted glare. "It's so obvious," she groaned. "He was trying so hard to impress you and you, like," she trailed off, "took it the wrong way." Chris sighed, running his free hand through his fade.

"I'm not used to that, Manda Panda. I don't, like, expect people to be interested in me." He found himself kicking himself for making excuses immediately. 

"I seem to recall you mentioning being really popular with guys in college," she said, dramatically leaning an elbow on the table.

"Yeah, well, I looked kinda girly back then, so, ya know, guys'll hit on anything with a pretty face." Amanda raised a brow.

"You must have looked different back then, because you've got a jaw that can cut glass now." Chris groaned dramatically. 

"I think I have pictures somewhere if you want to see," he offered. He then thought about it for a moment. "Then again, I may have burned them all. If you give me a minute to eat, we can go look through my old shtuff and see if I can find any."

"Ya know, if it's going to bring up any bad memories or whatever, you don't have to. I'm curious, but it's not the end of the world if I don't get to see what you looked like when you were younger," Amanda said, offering a small smile. 

"I know," Chris said, nodding. "It's fine, though. It's so far in the past that it seems like a movie rather than something that actually happened."

After a pause and turning her gaze down toward the table for a moment, Amanda muttered; "... it feels like that when I think about mom sometimes. I'm not sad anymore because it's so unreal at this point." Chris put his pancake sandwich down and stood up to walk around the table to put a hand on Amanda's shoulder.

"I know you might not believe this, but that's healthy, Manda Panda. There'll come a day when you can directly address those memories, and if you're not here, you know you can always call me if you need someone to talk to."

"I know, dad," she said with a watery smile, lifting a hand to place it over his. 

"Until then, do you want to see your old man in his hair-metal days?"

They managed to find a few pictures in things that hadn't been unboxed in Chris' closet. 

"Ya know, these aren't actually too bad," Amanda said, flipping through a small stack of Polaroids. "Your hair isn't as messy as I expected it to be. It's... flowy and nice," she said. "But you're right, it does make you look girly. The cut you have now is way more modern." She flipped through a few more, finding a picture of two people, the taller of them with their arm wrapped around Chris' shoulders. "Who is this guy?" Amanda asked, holding out the picture for his father.

"That's your mother," Chris said, taking the picture. He gave a fond little smile and a small huff. 

"Oh," Amanda said, her face falling into a confused expression. "Her face changed, too, huh?"

"We took a trip to Italy in the late eighties and spent a lot of my inheritance on plastic surgery. The area we stayed in was nice. Quiet, well off. We considered staying there."

"So, there's a chance I could have been an Italian youth right now rather than an American one?" 

"No, we adopted you here in the States. Not long after we got back from Italy, actually." Amanda seemed to think for a moment. 

"Ya know, I think I'm glad I'm an American instead of an Italian."

"Why's that?" Chris asked, taking the pictures back.

"Fried food," she said, grinning. 

"You can get fried food in Italy," Chris said with a raised brow.

"Not fried Oreos!"

"Oh, yeah, you had a bunch of those last night, didn't you?" After putting the pictures back in their safe storage, he turned to his daughter with his hands on his hips.

"Hey," she defended, "Daisy didn't like them, so I got to eat the whole batch. Plus, you ate way more than I did." She eyed him for a moment. "I thought for a bit that you were having an eating competition with Brian."

"I couldn't win an eating contest with River, Manda Panda," Chris said with a scoff.

"I know. I also know that you can't really fish, but you claimed you could to try to one-up him." 

"Hey! I am a master at baiting hooks!" Chris said, turning his nose up.

"There's more to fishing than baiting hooks, dad," Amanda said with a frown. Her father's face fell to a pout. 

"I know, but, like, at least I can bait a hook again real fast after I mess up and get the line back in the water so it looks like I didn't mess up." He gave an awkward grin, earning himself a roll of Amanda's eyes. 

"You need to stop. Seriously," she said, mirroring his pout. He deflated a bit. 

As they walked out of the room he muttered, "I'll work on it, Amanda."

After Chris went on his jog, the two spent the rest of the morning and part of the afternoon watching trash television. They took a break for salads that were more bacon bits and cheese than leaves before going right back to the couch. 

Amanda perked up when the doorbell rang. She hopped up and ran to the door, grinning deviously at her father.

"Amanda," he said warily, "what did you do?" Instead of answering, she pulled the door open.

"Hi, Daisy! Did you bring the books?" she asked, inviting the younger girl in.

"I sure did!" the little redhead cheered, shrugging off her backpack. She then looked over at Chris. "Oh, hello, Mr. Ratte," she greeted. "Amanda said you'd be okay with us going over the works of Graciela Iturbide in your living room tonight."

"W-who?" Chris asked, stunned out of his suspicion.

"Graciela Iturbide," Daisy said again, taking a book out of her bag. She held it up so he could see the cover. "She's a Mexican photographer who does a lot of daily life stuff. She did a lot of, um, adult stuff, too, but my dad already looked through my books and made sure they were age appropriate," she explained. 

"Yeah, and we're gonna have a girls night, so maybe you should scram, pops," Amanda said, hooking a thumb over her shoulder. The blonde sighed, then took his phone from his pocket. 

"I guess I could go see if Robert's awake yet and see if he wants to go take some tape recorders out in the woods," he muttered to himself. He didn't catch Amanda elbowing Daisy in the arm. Nor did he catch the younger girl suddenly looking like she remembered something important.

"Oh!" Daisy said suddenly. "My dad said you could come over if you wanted, Mr. Ratte," she supplied, smiling brightly. She looked to Amanda for her approval and got a nod and a pat on the shoulder. 

"Now I know what you're up to," Chris said, pointing at his daughter. He then turned to Daisy. "Thanks for telling me," he said with a small smile. "I guess I'll go put on some clean clothes and get out of your hair, ladies," the blonde said, heading off to his room. After changing into a clean shirt and jeans, throwing his flannel back on over it, he left through the front door. "Make sure Amanda behaves, Daisy," he said as he opened the door.

"Hey!"

"Will do, Mr. Ratte!"

"Have a good time, girls," he said with a laugh, closing the door behind him. 

Out on the front porch, he lit a cigarette. He checked his pockets for his phone and keys to waste time. Upon finding he had everything he needed, he started slowly walking with a great, smoke-filled sigh. He drug his feet all the way to Brian's house, stopping by the mailbox to finish his cigarette, flicking the butt out into the street. 

He turned slowly, hoping Robert or Mary, or even Hugo would wander out of their houses and give him an excuse not to go to The Thing he had to do. But, he'd have no such luck and heaved a heavy sigh as he plodded up the walkway to the front door. He rang the doorbell and waited, hands on his pockets, toeing at the welcome mat before the door.

He was greeted with a warm smile and almost frowned in response, but quickly forced his lips up to try to match Brian's expression as best he could. 

"So good to see you, Chris," he said, splaying one arm to invite the smaller man in. "Please, come in." The blonde opened his mouth to say something, but closed it and gave an amused huff instead, walking inside. 

As he looked around, he realized he hadn't been inside Brian's house before and took in the decor. Everything was shades of brown except the gray brick fireplace and the large, slim, silver-lined television mounted on the wall opposite the couch. He figured the plush brown sofa, medium brown carpet and dark stained coffee table must have been a consequence of having a rambunctious dog, but soon realized that the furnishings were just as warm as the man whose house they were in. The coffee table was loaded with several plates, and a bucket with ice and cans of beer. Fried fish still steamed in a heaping pile on one of the plates, ringed by other dishes of vegetables topped with too many cheeses. 

"Ooh, if you're trying to win my heart, you're on the right track," Chris said as he looked over the food that had been laid out. He soon chanced a glance at Brian to find him smiling in that heartbreakingly earnest way that almost hurt. "Um, so," Chris started talking again, scuffing one foot along the carpet, "do I need to take my shoes off, or anything?"

"However you're comfortable," Brian supplied, ushering him toward the sofa. After he was seated, Chris noticed Maxwell peeking his head in from what he assumed was the kitchen, as the carpet gave way to linoleum. The dog huffed sadly, as it he were limited to one room and couldn't devour the delicious smells coming from the coffee table. Brian laughed. "He's upset that I told him to stay in the kitchen. He wants to come beg for scraps even though he knows he'll regret it later."

"Yeah, I don't know how anyone could say 'no' to that face," Chris said with a small chuckle.

"None of us can, that's the problem," Brian said, reaching out for a beer. He first handed one to Chris, then popped the tab of his own. "I have Netflix pulled up, if you want to watch a movie," Brian offered.

"You really pulled out all the stops tonight, huh?" Chris asked, opening his beer. He gave a happy little sigh at the hiss and took a whiff of the high quality brand before taking a long pull from the tall can. 

"Well, I thought, since we started clearing the air last night, maybe we could just... relax tonight. I wanted it to be," Brian stopped for a moment, taking a drink to buy himself some time, "something you'd enjoy. I'd like to see you with a little less tension in your shoulders," he muttered into the mouth of his can. 

"What would you have done if I hadn't come?" Chris asked, leaning on the arm of the sofa. Brian looked dejected for a moment, but soon plastered on that awkward smile that was usually accompanied by scratching or stroking of his beard. 

"I probably would've watched a movie by myself and brought you some leftovers when it was time for Daisy to come home," he said quietly, a note of something blue in his voice. "Is there something you'd rather be doing right now? We could throw the food in the refrigerator and reheat it later if you wanted to do somthing else," Brian offered. 

"No, no," Chris said, almost blowing bubbles in his drink from how he was hiding behind it. He took another long pull, then rested the can on his knee. "I was just thrust into this situation last minute. I didn't even know Daisy was coming over until twenty minutes ago."

"Oh!" Brian sounded honestly surprised. "She told me she had your permission to come over and share her photo books with Amanda," he said, his lips settling in a slight frown.

"Well, I did tell her a few weeks ago that she could come over and see Amanda whenever she wanted, so that's not a lie," Chris muttered. "I just didn't know Amanda was going to kick me out for a 'girl's night'," he said. "I swear, our daughters are conspiring against- er, for us, I guess."

"With Daisy's smarts and Amanda's intuition, those two could take over the world together," Brian said with a laugh.

"Or at least the cul-de-sac," the blonde complained.

"Did you have plans for tonight already?" the redhead asked, plucking a Parmesan green bean from a bowl. Before he put it in his mouth, he said, "really, if you'd rather do something else, we can."

Chris sighed and brought his free hand up to his forehead to rub at it. He took a deep breath, then turned toward the bigger man. 

"Brian, really, this is great," he said, though he sounded as though he was on the verge of irritation. "I- look, don't let me walk all over you, because I will. Like, if you want this to work," he said, gesturing between the two of them, "you're going to have to be a little firm with me on occasion." After a moment he asked, "...alright?" Brian simply nodded, setting his beer aside in favor of the remote.

"How about we watch one of my favorite movies, then?" he asked. 

"Sure," Chris readily agreed. "What is it?"

"Fifty First Dates," Brian said as he scrolled through his queue, looking for the mentioned movie. Chris groaned, burying his face in his own arm. "Something wrong?" Brian asked.

"I hate that movie," the blonde said with a little snort of laughter. "You could have picked anything else in Adam Sandler's filmography and I would have been okay with it."

"Oh," Brian said, his smile falling away. "We can watch something else, then," he offered.

"No, wait," Chris said, setting his beer aside to reach out and try one of the things that were probably zucchini, but he couldn't really tell under all that cheese. "Mmm," he moaned around a mouthful, "I'll make you a deal."

"I'm listening," Brian said, green eyes wide, head slightly cocked. 

"If you let me criticize the movie as it's playing, I'll watch it with you." He waited a moment as Brian seemed to consider the offer. "It might be fun," the blonde said with a shrug. 

"Sure," Brian said with a small smile.

The two settled in, pulling plates onto their laps as the movie played. Every so often, Chris would point something out that had Brian giving a huff of laughter or a vaguely amused noise. They shared the food, managing to put it and all the beer in the bucket away before the movie was over. Chris' groan at the last scene lasted almost the entirety of said scene and Brian was doubled over with laughter when the blonde ran out of air, his groan turning into a squeal so he could continue to make a displeased sound. When he couldn't go on, Chris took a deep breath, then resumed groaning.

"Stop, stop," Brian said, somehow managing between peels of laughter. "I give. It's too much," he moaned, sagging back into the couch. Chris grinned brightly in response. When the redhead looked over, he seemed to demure, his eyes half-lidded, blushing from more than just his raucous laughter. 

"Brian?" Chris asked, cocking his head at the sudden shyness in his companion. "Everything alright over there?"

"Yeah, definitely," he said softly, leaning toward the smaller man. He reached out a hand and placed it carefully on the other's neck. The blonde gave a startled gasp, jumping back. 

"Woah," was all he could say, pushing himself back against the arm of the sofa. His breath was short as he stared at the other, blinking several times right in a row. Brian's hand went to his own neck and scratched awkwardly.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, looking elsewhere. "I thought... maybe," he trailed off, bringing the hand on his neck up to scratch at his beard in a short, nervous motion. 

"Oh. Oh, uh, y-yeah, that's cool. I mean, I'm down, but, like, we should talk about some stuff first," Chris stumbled through, not moving except to relax his posture a bit. "I'm not really a fan of, like, being touched out of the blue," he mumbled apologetically. "If I don't see it coming, I get skittish."

"I'm sorry," the bigger man said again, scooting closer to Chris once he'd relaxed. "Could we, maybe, try again?" Chris looked away for a moment, a muscle in his cheek twitching. 

"That depends on how far you intend to go," he said, huffing out a sigh through his nose. "If you wanted to, like, I dunno," and he shrugged in place of words, "there's some other... things we'd have to talk about."

"Oh," and Brian's blush grew, spreading down into his shirt. "I hadn't been thinking that far ahead," he admitted. "I just thought I'd like to kiss you," he looked back toward the smaller man, offering a warm but nervous smile.

"Yeah," Chris said, sitting up straight. "Yeah, I can work with that. But, like, only that."

"Only that?" Brian asked, raising one shoulder a bit.

"Only that," Chris repeated. 

"No cuddling?" Brian asked, a hopeful note in his voice. 

"Oh my god," the blonde complained as he moved closer to Brian. "Just... shut up and kiss me before I start to hate myself and give up on tonight and go down to the bar and get wasted."

Happy to hold the smaller body close, Brian made a mental note to ask about the troubling words Chris muttered at a later date, pressing his lips to slack salmon ones as smaller hands curled over his biceps.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Robert and Chris are very vulgar in the way they speak to each other, so fair warning there. Also, someone vomits, and throwing up is mentioned a few times, so brace yourself.

"So, what else happened?" Robert asked, skipping another stone across the wide part of the river they'd found while exploring. 

"Whaddya mean 'what else happened'?" Chris asked, mildly annoyed as he put the bottle to his lips and took a long pull. "We kissed for a bit, got up and got another beer from the 'fridge then fell asleep on the couch. Woke up to Maxwell licking my face and the girls making us breakfast." Robert made an irritated noise and took the few steps to reach the blonde, snatching the bottle.

"Don't hog it," he complained lightheartedly, taking a long draw from the bottle himself. "And what I mean is, did you touch his dick?"

"What?" the blonde squeaked, leaning back against a slender tree, raising a dramatic brow at the older man. "I didn't- what?" he asked again, thoroughly confused, especially with the whiskey starting to set in. They'd drank about a third of the bottle between them, so they were each about three shots in to the afternoon.

"That's how comedians tell us dates go," Robert thought he was explaining. "Ya know, dinner, make out, dick touch, sleep."

"I don't- Oh, wait," Chris said, the memory of a certain comedian coming back to him. "Liza- No, Iliza Shh," and he gave up trying to pronounce her last name less than halfway through, giggling as he reached out for the bottle only to have Robert pull it back and take another swig. He eventually handed it over, and the two took turns trying to pronounce 'Shlesinger' and laughing. "But no," Chris eventually continued, "I didn't touch his dick. I don't fuck on the first date. I'm not that kinda gal," he joked, putting his hand to his chest as he turned up his nose.

"Nah, you don't fuck on'a first date," Robert agreed as he was handed the bottle, "you punch." He grunted out a little laugh and leaned back against one of the thicker trees that could support his full weight. "I remember I came on to you and you knocked me flat." Chris stole the bottle back for that comment, trotting away with it as punishment. 

"Mnh-uhn," he said around a mouthful of whiskey. A bit dribbled down his chin when he pulled the bottle away, holding it up where he hoped was out of Robert's reach, but really wasn't since they were the same height. "That doesn't count," the blonde said, leaning back to play keep away with the alcohol. "You startled me. You pressed your dick up against my ass when I wasn't expecting anyone behind me."

"Can you really blame me?" Robert asked, and stopped trying to get the bottle for a moment, crossing his arms over his chest. "You were leaning over the bar, putting it all on display."

"Yes, I can," Chris said, pouting, pointing at Robert with the hand holding the bottle. "You came up behind me. I didn't see you coming, so I reacted." The older man used that opportunity to snag the bottle and Chris let it go. He waved a hand in an irritated gesture and took a cigarette from the pocket of his flannel and lit it, looking for a tree thick enough to lean against. When he found one, he heaved a heavy sigh as he relaxed, closing his eyes. After a few long drags, he cracked an eye open and watched Robert's Adam's Apple bob while he drank. "You also kinda assumed I was into dudes. I could have 'knocked you flat' because there was a dick rubbing up against my jeans."

"Ha!" Robert barked out a laugh. "I wasn't even hard," he defended himself. "Pretty sure if you felt anything, it was my keys." He checked the bottle to see how much was left before taking another swig. "And I'm pretty sure you're into dudes if you're trying to get with Brian."

"... he's nice," Chris said in a small voice, putting his cigarette to his lips. 

"Oh, I agree," Robert said with a bit too deep of a nod. "Why do you think I hang out with him at those stupid cookouts Joseph makes everyone go to?" He held out the bottle, offering the blonde what was left. Chris held up a hand as if to say 'no,' so Robert downed what was left. "Let's go sit in my truck and listen to music," Robert suggested, checking his pockets for his keys. When he found them, he put them back and pulled out a crumpled cigarette and lighter.

"Oh no," Chris said, shaking his head. "We're not going back to your truck until we start to sober up a little." After a long moment, he added; "I don't think I'm leaving this tree for a bit. I think I'll sway if I try to walk. I definitely had, like, eight shots." Robert snorted.

"Man, you had, like, five," he corrected. "I drank most of this," he said, picking the empty bottle back up. He swayed a little, then laughed. "Yup, definitely drank most of this." He sat down in the grass and looked out over the water. "When's your kid expect you back?"

"I told Amanda not to expect me back until eight. I made her dinner and put it in the 'fridge, so unless there's an emergency, she should be fine."

"Well, even if you are an aggressive drunk asshole, you still make sure your kid is fed, at least."

"About the only thing I do right," Chris said with a little giggle, pushing away from the tree. He lit another cigarette with the butt of his first as he walk-stumbled over to Robert, flopping down in the grass next to him. "Move your arms. I'm gonna lay my drunk ass over your lap."

"Spread my legs, you say?" Robert teased, leaning back on his arms. "Alright, I can dig it when a guy takes control."

"You shut up," Chris groaned, flopping over the legs. 

"Fuck," Robert hissed when the blonde's cigarette fell on his thigh, burning a small hole in his jeans and searing a pin-prick spot on his leg before he swatted it off. Chris laughed, reaching over to pick up his cigarette to resume smoking it. "You really are an asshole," Robert said with a quiet huff and a slight grin. 

"Yeah, well, we're perfect for each other, I guess," the younger man shot back.

"If that's the case, then why aren't we together?" Robert asked, sucking on the filter that dangled from his lips. 

"Because you need a big daddy dom who is going to take care of you and force you to do the right thing, and I'm an enabling piece of shit?" Chris asked, looking up at Robert with his brows raised. Robert scoffed. "I need a cute little twink who will cuddle up to me and make me want to be a good person." Robert laughed so hard he shook the blonde in his lap, had to take his cigarette from his mouth so it wouldn't fall on Chris.

"In what universe is Brian a twink?" Robert eventually managed. 

"Well, he's cuddly, at least," the younger man said with a half-hearted shrug. He puffed on his cigarette for a few moments before he added; "... and he kinda does make me want to be a better person."

"Yeah?" Robert asked, cocking his head as Chris looked away.

"He's just so damn nice, and I wanna be nice, too. Like, I'm not even sure if it's my competitive nature at this point. I felt, like, safe in his arms, and I ain't felt safe in a man's arms in... well, unless you count the short period of time before Alex came out, ever, really."

"You look like you feel pretty safe right now," Robert teased. Chris looked back toward the older man with a raised brow. He pointed with the hand that held his cigarette.

"First, I'm drunk," the blonde started, "and second, you know how hard I hit."

"Uhn," Robert grunted. "I couldn't get it up for a week after you hit me. Every time I decided I was gonna try to masturbate, my jaw started aching. I was afraid you broke my dick."

"Like the whiskey hasn't?" Robert rolled his eyes in answer.

"I stopped getting whiskey dick in my thirties," he shot back. 

"Uh huh," Chris said with a slight shake of his head. He closed his eyes and puffed on the rest of his cigarette, reaching over to stub it out in the dirt. After a minute of silence, Chris suddenly blurted; "Hugo."

"What?" Robert asked, looking down at the younger man. 

"Hugo would be perfect for you," he clarified. Robert pulled a face that made Chris curl in on himself in laughter, sliding off the other's lap. 

"How the fuck would that nerd be perfect for me?" Chris could only laugh harder in response, struggling to get to his knees to crawl a short distance away. 

"Oh fuck. Fuck," Chris groaned in joyous pain, a tear rolling down his cheek. "I told you that you need a big daddy dom to help you get your shit together," he said, finally calming as his stomach started to cramp. Robert reeled back so hard he looked like he had a double chin from the angle Chris looked at him from and he started laughing again, holding his stomach. 

"Hugo. A 'big daddy dom'? Do we know different Hugos?" Robert asked, taking out a new cigarette. 

"No," Chris whined. "There is no way he's not, like- You want someone who is gonna come home and take out their frustrations on your sweet little ass and pamper you afterward, that's Hugo."

"I don't get that vibe from him," Robert said with a scoff. "Also, thanks. My ass is pretty sweet." Robert lit his cigarette. "I don't know where you got the idea that that nerd would be good for me. I'm too old to learn shit and a nerd would cramp my style."

"Hey. Hey. I'm half nerd on my mother's side," Chris complained, holding his stomach tighter as it was cramping, his muscles contracting even though he was no longer laughing. 

"And you think you don't cramp my style?"

"Yet you hang out with me anyway," Chris grumbled, leaning forward until his forehead rest against the cool grass. 

"Yeah, I like you for some reason," Robert said with a shrug.

"Because I'm you, just not as cool," the blonde said, trying to steady his breathing. "Also, I'm gonna throw up, so, like, look away." Robert took the moment while the blonde was emptying his guts on the grass to rub his eyes. After a few painful sounding retches, Chris groaned and flopped over on his side, rolling away from the mess he made.

"You good?" the older man asked, drawing his legs up under himself.

"Yeah, but my mouth tastes like shit. We got anything I can use to wash it out with?"

"Uh, maybe. One sec," Robert said, managing to get to his feet and over to the things they'd brought with them. "Looks like your options are beer or river water," he said. 

"Fuck, throw me a beer. After polishing off an entire bottle of whiskey between us, beer may as well be river water," Chris grumbled. Robert tossed the beer at the younger man and Chris groaned miserably when it hit him in the arm.

"Payback's a bitch," Robert said, grinning around the filter of his cigarette. Chris flipped him the bird, earning a chuckle, before sitting up and popping the tab. He sloshed some of the bitter liquid in his mouth before spitting it out. 

"Ohh, yes, I feel better," he said, then washed his mouth out with beer once more.

"So," Robert said, stalking over with his own unopened beer in hand, "when're you gonna show me those tattoos? Mysterious is my shtick." Chris grunted, put his beer between his knees and started rolling up the sleeve of his flannel. "Oh shit, you're actually showing me?" Robert asked, sitting in the grass next to his friend. 

"You said mysterious is your shtick," was the answer with the drawn out hiss of the letter s. Once the sleeve was sloppily folded, he held out his arm, showing the colorful mess that was his skin. 

"That's a... lot of colors," Robert said with a nod, watching as Chris turned his arm this way and that, showing swirls and patterns, including Jeff Hardy inspired branches growing down onto his hand. "I think I saw some Japanese in there, too."

"You did," Chris said with a laugh, rolling his sleeve back down and buttoning it. He took a sip of his beer before he explained; "It's my favorite kanji from my weeb days." Robert scoffed.

"You act like your weeb days are over."

"Unfortunately, they pretty much are," Chris said with a semi-amused pout. "Amanda's not really that into anime, so I don't get to indulge as much as I used to." The older man gave a grunt of solidarity.

"So, why'd you get a full sleeve?"

"It's a distraction," the blonde said, splaying his fingers for jazz hands. 

"From what?"

"The missing chunk of my arm?" 

"You're missing a chunk of your arm?" Robert asked, opening his beer and bringing it to his lips, stopping just short of taking a sip. "What happened?"

"You know what happened," Chris said, his brows pinched.

"Uh, no, I don't," Robert said, finally taking a drink. Gray eyes blinked and Chris gave Robert a Look with a capital L. "What?" the older man snapped, "I seriously don't."

"My dick isn't exactly homegrown," the blonde said as he pulled out yet another cigarette. "Put two and two together, Robert." The brunette continued to look puzzled for a long moment as he sipped his beer and his companion smoked. Suddenly his eyes widened and he flung out a hand to point at the younger man.

"Doctors took a piece of your arm to clone you a dick!" he said, sounding proud of himself. Chris stared for a long moment, cigarette smoke wafting up between them as the seconds ticked by. Eventually, the blonde broke out into laughter, doubling over and burning himself in the process, cussing and laughing and crying as he started to cough. 

"Yeah, sure, we'll go with that," he managed on a whine, tears pouring over his cheeks. "I'll puke again if I don't stop laughing," he warned, wiping at his eyes with his free hand. He looked for his beer, but it had fallen and rolled away, leaving a patch of wet earth in it's wake. 

Eventually Chris heaved a heavy sigh and slumped to the ground. The two sat there in silence, appreciating the nice weather, soft grass, cigarette smoke and the warm buzz that bubbled under their skin. Robert eventually moved to find a stick worth carving and Chris simply rolled over to watch the sun dip toward the horizon. 

The music they listened to on the drive home was far too loud, but Chris had his window down and the wind in his face was far louder. 

"Manda Panda, I'm home!" he announced as he walked through the door, kicking off his shoes next to it. 

"Welcome back, dad!" she said happily, trotting in from the kitchen with a plate in her hands. "Brian brought over some food for us, and I won't lie, I ate most of it. But there's still enough left for you!"

"I'll have to thank him later," Chris said, wrapping one arm around his daughter's shoulders, taking the plate of what appeared to be deer meat if the color was any indication. Amanda pulled a face, wrinkling her nose.

"You smell terrible," she said, pulling away to hold her nose in a way that was more for show than productive. "What did you do today? Ugh."

"Oh, right, sorry," he said, a little sheepish. He had to think quickly to explain the imprints of grass on his cheek and the smell of vomit and alcohol on his breath if he didn't want to tell his baby girl the truth. Though, what he would tell her, he decided, wouldn't entirely be a lie; "Robert made me laugh so hard I puked." Amanda bore her teeth in an awkward grimace as she took the plate back from her father. 

"You go shower, nasty. I'll throw this in the microwave," she said, heading off to the kitchen. "Oh," she called from the kitchen as her father started to head for his room, "and don't forget to send Brian a message on Dadbook thanking him for everything. This food is amazing."

"Will do, Panda."

"And hurry up in the shower. This is going to tempt me to eat it while it's sitting here, emitting all these amazing smells..."

Chris laughed and shook his head, grimacing when the action caused a swell of pain from his temple down behind his ear.


	4. Chapter 4

_Hey._  
_Sorry I didn't message you yesterday. I was really tired when I got home._  
_Thanks for the food. It was great. Amanda sends her thanks, too._  
_Actually, she just said a lot of Ms._  
_Like "Mmmm"._  
_And thanks for the movie and food the night before that. I had a good time. Maybe we could do it again sometime._  
_But, you're probably busy, so I'll get out of your hair for now. Message me later?_

Chris got up from the couch, leaving his laptop on the table. He felt a bit childish sending so many messages in a row, wondering why he didn't send them as one longer message. It would have almost read like a letter, he thought. He would have thought more about how he sounded like a clingy teenager, but his head hurt in a way that all the water in the world wasn't curing, and he'd almost skipped his run. He hadn't bothered changing out of his sweats after returning home, but he did decide it was time for something to eat.

Before he could crack an egg in the skillet, his computer chirped with a Dadbook message. He heaved a sigh and sat the egg aside carefully. He was tempted to ignore it until he had some food in him, but he was being a Good Boy, even if his stomach hurt from not keeping enough food in his system yesterday. Even if his chest was tight from more than just his push-ups earlier in the morning. He headed back to the computer and flopped down on the couch, wondering if he'd taken an anti-inflammatory yet that day, or if he'd remembered yesterday. He pushed it from his mind as he read the message.

_I'm glad you liked it. I'm not terribly busy at the moment, just working on a bid and I'm ahead of schedule. Would you like to come over for lunch?_

"Oh," Chris said, his stomach growling in agreement with the idea of a lunch Brian made. His stomach took control of his fingers for a moment as he typed out a response.

_Like I'm going to turn down food you made. When do you want me over there?_

The blonde bit his lip as he reread his message. He wondered if it would come off as greedy, but his stomach was exactly that and fighting his brain for control of his faculties.

_How soon can you come over?_

_Well, I should probably at least shower and change before I come over. I did just work out a little bit ago._

_You don't have to get dolled up for me._

_I smell bad. I wouldn't want to ruin our appetites. Give me half an hour?_

_I'll still be cooking then. Join me in my back yard?_

_Sure. See you in thirty minutes!_

Chris took a quick shower, scrubbing down his sweaty spots. As he drew his nails over his scalp and washed his hair, he considered shaving the hair around his nipples, but decided he had no one to impress just yet, so he let it be and turned off the water. Drying and dressing was a quick affair, slipping into jeans, a tee and a flannel a comfortable routine. Cologne crossed his mind as he scrubbed his partial denture, then brushed his teeth, his eyes catching the candy blue liquid he'd received as a gift for his birthday from Amanda two years ago. Even as he thought a scent beyond deodorant might come off as too strong for hanging out for lunch, he spritzed his neck anyway, figuring at least Amanda would be happy that he was using it.

"It's not like I'll smell like more than cigarette smoke by the time I get there, anyway," he muttered to himself, putting the bottle back in the medicine cabinet. He headed back to the kitchen to get a glass of water and take an anti-inflammatory pill, still unsure if he'd already taken one that day or not.

Grabbing his phone, wallet, keys and cigarettes was the last step, but he killed another minute heading back to the bathroom to check his hair again, making sure the short locks laid the right way. With a heavy sigh, he realized he couldn't stall any more, and he headed out the door, locking it behind him. Chris lit a cigarette as he wandered over toward Brian's place, heading into the back yard through the gate.

"Hey," the blonde called out, hurrying up the steps of the deck. Brian greeted him with a warm smile, turning to invite the smaller man into his arms. "Oh, uh, I'm still smoking," Chris said sheepishly, hunching his shoulders.

"It's alright," Brian assured him. "You think I don't work with tons of smokers?" Chris gave a small smile and tucked himself in the other's side, holding his cigarette out, away from their embrace. Brian wrapped both arms around the smaller man and held him close for a moment, despite the spatula occupying one of his hands. When he released Chris, the smaller man looked up.

"Um," was all he said for a long moment, just staring. Eventually, he closed his eyes and puckered his lips, hearing a tiny huff of laughter from the bigger man before lips were pressed to his own. A gentle hand was placed at the back the other's head, fingers teasing the very short hairs as Brian carefully tilted Chris' head back, deepening the kiss for only a moment. When he pulled back, he was smiling brightly, all teeth and red cheeks. "Well, hello to you, too," the blonde said breathlessly. Brian's smile only grew.

"I hope you like chili," he said.

"I love chili," Chris answered, stepping away to finish his cigarette. "Hope you can deal with my intestinal distress."

"I have medicine for that," the redhead promised, turning the ground deer meat on a pan on a hot plate. "There will be no intestinal distress tonight, I swear," he said.

"Um, hey," Chris drew the other's attention as he put out his smoke on his shoe. "Where should I put my cigarette butt? I can throw it away later."

"Oh, if it's out, you can just throw it in the fire pit," Brian answered, gesturing with the spatula. "That's what Robert always did, and I never corrected him." The mention of Robert had Chris feeling a little guilty, but he headed down the opposite set of steps on the deck and tossed his trash in the pit.

As he came back up the steps, Chris asked, "... can I help with anything?" The smile Brian gave almost hurt for Chris, the redhead so excited by a little politeness.

"You can stir this, if you want," he said, motioning to a tall pot that sat on a roaring miniature grill. "Be careful, though," Brian warned, "it's on an open flame." Chris took over the task, telling himself not to steal a bite as his stomach resumed the growling it had put off in his nervousness. "Good, you came hungry!" Brian cheered as he turned the meat once more. "This is the last batch of meat to go in, then we can put in some cheese and dig in," he said, turning off the hot plate. He dumped the meat in the pot, watching the blonde stir it for a moment before setting the pan aside. "Sorry we're doing this outside without much notice," Brian said, grabbing bowls from a glass patio table nearby, "It's just a nice day out, and I've been inside all morning making calls, so I thought we might be able to enjoy the weather out here."

"You know I don't mind being outside," the blonde said, taking one of the bowls when it was handed to him. He filled the bowl, and handed it back to Brian, taking the next one and filling it, too. He kept it for himself, following the bigger man to the patio table where shredded cheeses and another bucket of beer were laid out. "Uh," was all Chris could say, his stomach speaking for him. Brian chuckled.

"Give it a moment to cool down," he advised, taking a seat, gesturing to one beside him for Chris. The blonde sat and loaded his bowl with cheese, stirring the melting goodness in. "I have other drinks if you'd prefer something else," Brian offered.

"Nah, beer is fine with me," Chris said, taking one when it was passed to him.

"Are you sure? Daisy only drinks soda on the weekends, so if she has any left, I'm sure she wouldn't mind sharing a can with you." Before Chris could respond, Brian went on; "I could make some Irish coffees for us, but maybe it's a little too warm for that just yet."

"Irish coffee?" the blonde asked with a little chuckle.

"Yes? I don't really keep anything more than beer stocked, but I'm pretty sure I have a small bottle of whiskey in the cellar. Do you not like Irish coffee?"

"No, I love it, actually. My favorite alcoholic beverage on the planet," Chris admitted, snorting. "But, uh, hmm... Have you seen Seinfeld?"

"I love that show!" Brian cheered.

"Yeah," Chris said with a breathy chuckle. "Irish coffee is to me as Schnapps is to Elaine."

"Oh," Brian said, unable to keep from laughing.

"Yeah, so maybe don't schnapp me on our lunch-date." Brian laughed heartily.

"Alright, I won't," he promised. "So, what did you do yesterday?" Brian asked, blowing on a spoonful of his own dish. Guilt hit the little blonde like a freight train. He couldn't exactly say he'd gone out to the woods to get drunk with Robert, he thought, and stammered out an ungraceful 'uh.'

"I made dinner for Amanda, then hung out with Robert," Chris said, putting a bite of chili in his mouth, puffing out his cheeks when it was still far too hot. He whined after swallowing, popping the tab on his beer quickly, and took a swig in hopes to ease the searing pain.

"What did you do? More ghost hunting?" Brian asked, far too cheerful for the sudden sourness of Chris' mood.

"Not exactly," the blonde muttered.

"Hmm?" Brian asked, blowing on another bite.

"We... got drunk and skipped rocks on a river we found."

"Oh," Brian said, deflating a bit.

"Yeah," Chris said, trailing off.

"I could make coffee if you're not feeling up to beer. Or, it is a little warm out. Maybe soda would be a better idea?" Brian offered, standing before Chris could talk him out of it.

"No, don't worry about it," Chris said, also getting up from his seat. "Really, it's fine. Beer is nothing anymore." He ran a hand through his short hair, standing there awkwardly. The redhead reached out for the smaller man's elbow, gently taking it in hand.

"Chris," Brian said seriously, getting wide gray eyes turned up at him. "How often do you drink?"

After a long moment, the blonde answered honestly; "... whenever it won't negatively affect Amanda." Brian's soft frown was heartbreaking, and Chris had to look away.

"Coffee it is, then," the bigger man said, leading the blonde inside. "Forgive me if I'm prying too much, but... Do you keep alcohol in your house?"

"Never more than a six pack of beer," Chris answered. "I know she's a good kid, but I didn't want Amanda getting in it, so I never kept anything else." Brian's lips turned up at that, and he leaned forward to press a kiss to the shorter man's forehead before he set some coffee to brew.

He thought he should have felt patronized, but the sweet kiss really did feel like praise for Chris, who brought a hand up to scratch at his other arm nervously.

A few minutes later, with a cup of sugary black coffee in his hands, Chris muttered; "... you know I'd never do anything to hurt Amanda. She doesn't know how much I drink, and I always plan any benders around her schedule, making sure she has meals cooked and clothes washed before I go off and drink."

"I know you wouldn't do anything that would cause Amanda harm, hun," Brian said, leading the other back outside with a hand at the small of his back. "Though, she will lose you years too soon if you don't stop the benders." They sat again and though the blonde's stomach made it's eagerness for the food that was then cool enough to eat known, Chris found himself with no desire to eat. "I thought you were hungry?" Brian said, moving his bowl closer to Chris' before moving his chair closer to the blonde.

"I am," he said, though he just swirled his spoon through the delicious-smelling slop.

"Here," Brian said, taking the spoon from a smaller hand. He cupped Chris' jaw with his free hand and brought the spoon up to his lips, feeding him.

"This should really feel patronizing," the blonde murmured, closing his eyes when blunt nails scratched through his stubble.

"You know I don't mean it that way, Chris," the redhead said softly, "I just want to take care of you."

"Uhn," Chris groaned. "I want to be taken care of, I promise you, but-" and he stopped cold when he realized he didn't have the words together to explain his thoughts.

"But?"

"I dunno," the blonde said with a shrug. "You deserve someone who will take just as much care of you." Brian grinned, spooning up more chili to feed his partner.

"We could turn it into a contest, if you'd like," the bigger man teased. When one blonde brow raised, Brian knew he had the other's attention. "Try to take better care of each other, and see who can do it better."

"You'll win, but," and Chris waited a moment, blinking slowly before he finished his thought, "I'll give it a shot, I guess." The blonde let Brian feed him a few more bites before planting a comedically loud kiss on his hand and taking the spoon back to feed himself, scarfing down the rest of his first bowl while Brian hid laughter behind his massive fingers. Once his food was finished, Chris stated firmly; "Give me your foot."

"Um, excuse me?" Brian asked, a small huff of disbelief passing his lips.

"You're out there on job sites, walkin' around all day," the blonde explained, sliding off his chair to the deck.

"What're you doing?" Brian asked, green eyes wide and his lip in his teeth as Chris started untying his boot.

"What's it look like?" he asked with an irritated huff, slipping off the heavy shoe. He explained as he rolled up the other's pant leg; "I'm gonna rub your feet. I'm pretty good at it, not to brag." He peeled off the other's sock, smiling as Brian's toes curled, almost shy. "How else do you think Amanda survived a year of marching band, huh?"

"W-well, alright," Brian relented, putting his hand to his mouth as clever fingers started pressing into his sole. "Oh, you are good," the redhead moaned, gripping the arms of his chair, missing the way Chris grinned. After a minute, Brian was squirming in his seat, panting with his eyes closed tight. "H-hey," he managed, heaving a sigh of relief when Chris stopped. "Oh no," he breathed when the little blonde started removing his other shoe.

"Both feet, Brian," the shorter man said, sticking his tongue out. "It's not fair if only one gets all the love."

"But I was going to take care of yo-u," Brian's voice cracked when thumbs pressed in, effectively rendering him speechless.

"We'll take turns," Chris promised, enjoying himself just a bit too much. The expression on the bigger man's face was priceless, his freckled cheeks alight with a blush, lower lip firmly between his teeth, and nostrils flaring as he tried not to make a sound. "You look good like this," slipped out before Chris could stop it, and he almost felt bad, but the puzzled expression that took up residence on Brian's features, the blonde decided, was the most endearing look to grace his face yet. "Feelin' good, honey?" he asked, skin prickling with warmth as he watched Brian switch out his lip for his knuckles in his teeth's grasp. The redhead could only nod, something akin to a whine escaping him as Chris' fingers mover up to his calf, finding a sore spot. When Brian realized just how hard he was biting himself, he had to put his foot down.

"Stop, please," he whined, "It's too much. I can't take much more of this." With a soft sigh, Chris eased his foot to the deck, leaning forward to rest his forehead against a sturdy knee.

"You need someone to take care of your feet. They're tense, and you've got some calluses that need taken care of."

"I am on my feet most of the day," Brian admitted, sitting up straight to run his fingers through his partner's short hair. Chris nearly purred at the affection, getting a quiet chuckle from the bigger man. "How about your own feet, hmm?" Chris hoisted himself back into his seat when Brian took his hand back.

He reached for his coffee before answering; "Oh, I jog and go hiking with, like, Robert and Craig sometimes, but most of my job is done seated. The only walking work requires is getting my assignments from the mail, then taking them back to the post whenever they're completed." He sat his coffee aside and started taking off his tennis shoes and socks. "I take really good care of my feet," he explained, thrusting a foot toward the other. He was proud to show off his well-maintained, moisturized feet with trimmed toenails and no hair on his toes. "Uh," he said with a snorting laugh, taking his foot back to put his sock on again, "I kinda realized you're still eating, and I feel like an ass." He slipped his shoe back on and sipped his coffee while he waited for a response other than Brian's warm laughter.

"After you've handled diapers, nothing phases you anymore," Brian said, picking up his bowl. "Besides, feet never bothered me to begin with," he admitted, stretching out his legs until his feet found sunlight unbidden by the overhang. He curled his toes happily as he ate. "I like being barefoot, anyway. I just don't because it seems to bother other people if an adult doesn't have shoes on. Nothing feels better than feeling the Earth between your toes," he said, then put a spoonful of chili in his mouth, tipping his bowl up a bit to hide his blush.

"Well," Chris started, taking his coffee with him as he got up, wandering out onto the deck in the sun, leaning against the railing, "if you want to go around barefoot, you're going to have to let me help you with a foot care regiment." The comment was teasing, delivered with a wink as Chris took out a cigarette.

"Sure," Brian gave, getting up to refill his bowl and stir the pot's contents so it wouldn't stick. "We've got a few hours before our kids get home," Brian started, joining the smaller man in the sun, leaning his backside against the railing next to the smoking man. "Is there anything you'd like to do?"

"Hmm," Chris said thoughtfully, taking a long moment to run down a checklist of options. A grin broke out over his face, smoke curling up from the corners of his mouth in a way that concerned Brian. "We don't have a whole lot of time, but... Wanna cause some trouble?" the blonde asked, a devious note in his voice.


	5. Chapter 5

"What kind of trouble?" Brian asked, eyeing the smaller man warily.

"Nothing terrible," Chris cooed, taking his phone from his pocket. He pulled up Dadbook and fit himself into Brian's side so he could see the small screen while he ate. "I'm just gonna piss off Robert," he explained, grinning.

"By messaging Hugo?" Brian asked, resting his head against Chris' when he finished his bowl.

"Yes," Chris hissed out with a devious smile. "I've been trying to convince Robert that he and Hugo are perfect for each other, but he doesn't believe me." Brian pulled back to stare down at the blonde with a raised brow.

"I don't believe you, either," he said simply. Chris made a noise in response that sounded vaguely like 'guh,' and stopped typing to look up.

"Oh, come on," the shorter man groaned, "I can't be the only one who sees it."

"Well," Brian said, balancing his bowl on the guard rail to scratch at his beard, "maybe if you'd explain it to me I could try to see what you're seeing." Chris hit send, and shut off his phone's screen and put it in the pocket of his flannel, pulling away from the redhead.

"Alright, so it's like this," he said, and lit a new cigarette from the butt of his first. He leaned over the railing to flick his old butt he'd stubbed out on his shoe at the fire pit. "Yes," he hissed when his trash actually landed in the pit. "Okay, so, hear me out.

"Robert is a mess." Brian felt guilty for laughing, hiding the action in the backs of his fingers. "He's constantly wallowing in self-pity, relying on all these vices to make himself feel better about all the shit that's gone wrong in his life." Chris stopped for a moment, giving a heavy sigh, "like me, I guess," he added in a small voice, though he quickly moved on. "But, like, with a firm hand, all of that could be turned around. Pretty easily, too, I think."

"And you think that hand is Hugo's?" Brian asked, his voice pitching up at the end of his question.

"How can you not?!" Chris blurted. "Hugo tries so hard to keep everything under control, and even though he thinks everything is constantly falling apart, he's actually pretty well got a handle on," the blonde trailed off for a moment, taking a drag from his cigarette as he tried to think of the word he wanted to use, "well, life," he settled with, shrugging.

"Alright," the bigger man said, another chuckle escaping him, "but I fail to see how that makes them perfect for each other."

"Okay," Chris continued, grinning near-maniacally at that point, "Robert needs someone to take control, to tell him what to do, someone who can handle the blame when things just don't work out because that's life, right?"

"I'm following... so far," Brian said, nodding.

"Hugo gets blame from every direction; parents, students, probably other teachers, let's be honest," the blonde said, gesturing with both hands. "So, he's used to it. Also, having Robert obey his orders would give him that feeling of control he thinks he lacks."

"So," the redhead began, drawing out the word, "Hugo would get to feel strong and tough, and Robert would have a firm hand pushing him along the road of recovery?"

"Yes," Chris cheered, throwing a fist in the air. "Exactly!" After a long moment, he added; "They could also both really stand to get laid." A huff of laughter bubbled over Brian's lips before he could stop it, and he covered his mouth for a moment.

"But what do they have in common?" he asked, hand falling away from his mouth. He cocked his head as he waited for an answer.

"They both like obscure shit," the blonde said, holding out a hand as if asking the other to wait. "For Hugo, it's more books and the like, but those books get made into movies, which are Robert's forte." Chris rolled his eyes. "Robert is really into movies. Like you wouldn't believe."

"I've had him over for a cul-de-sac movie night before," the redhead commiserated, "I know how he gets."

"Then you get it, right? They would be so damn perfect for each other."

"I don't know how to put this, so forgive me if it comes off as rude, but," Brian scratched his beard for a moment, looking off over the expanse of his back yard. "I don't think Hugo would really want to put up with Robert's shit. Not while dealing with a teenager, probably still reeling from his divorce..." he trailed off, stroking the hair on his chin. "Don't get me wrong, I like Robert. But, Hugo?"

"I think it's a match made in heaven," Chris said, jumping when his phone beeped with a Dadbook message in his pocket.

"Hmm?" Brian asked when the blonde snorted. Chris showed the bigger man his screen.

_Robert wanted me to tell you to message him._

_Why didn't he just message me himself if that's the case?_

_It's part of his Mysterious Bad Boy shtick or something._  
_Just message him. He's interested in going to trivia._

The new message read _He told me to tell you to go fuck yourself._

Brain let out a helpless giggle.

"What are you going to tell him?" the redhead asked, wrapping an arm around Chris' shoulders as he leaned over the railing with his phone in hand.

"Watch this," Chris said, hyper focused on his phone.

_Oh, I must have messaged you too soon and thrown off his timing. Tell him I'm sorry for throwing off his timing. But you should really talk to him. At least about trivia. He seemed very interested the last time we spoke. He's a little shy, you know, so he's not going to ask you if he can come._

"Oh man," Brian said, finding himself engrossed in the almost-drama. "You're good at this."

"I know," Chris said with a snicker. "You should have seen me in college. This was a lot harder without social media." He threw his spent cigarette butt at the fire pit and missed. "Shit. Remind me to get that later," he said, then turned back to his phone. It wasn't long before another message popped up, but it wasn't from Hugo.

_I'm going to kill you._

"You've made Robert mad," Brian noted, huffing out a laugh in short blonde hair. The smaller man only grinned, eagerly tapping out a response.

_You'll have to find me first._

_I know where you live._

_You assume I'll be there._

Both men looked up when Brian's phone dinged from the patio table. The bigger man huffed out a laugh and drew his hand over Chris' back as he went to retrieve it, taking his bowl with him.

"He's asking if you're here," Brian managed through laughter.

"Yeah?" Chris asked, turning around, leaning casually against the railing. "How're you gonna play this?"

"Hmm," the bigger man hummed as he thought. "Oh, I know." He typed out a message, then held his phone out for Chris to see it.

_No killing on my property, Robert._

Several messages came in as gray eyes were scanning the last.

 _I knew it! You two are conspiring against me!_  
_I'm gonna get my biggest knife_  
_and come after that nicely trimmed bush in your front yard_

Chris gave a guffaw, curling in on himself as Brian took his phone back. He chuckled, then typed out another message as Chris' phone rang out with more messages.

"He's quoting Taken at me," the blonde said with a roll of his eyes.

"Look," Brian said, grinning brightly, holding his phone out toward the smaller man.

_Oh, that's a shame. I was going to bring spiced potatoes to Joseph's cookout this weekend, but I guess I'll be too busy removing my destroyed bush to make any._

_...You win this round, Harding._

"Ha," the blonde said, reaching up to thread his fingers in Brian's hair, pulling the larger man down for a kiss. Brian mumbled a quiet 'oh' against salmon lips, putting his phone in his pocket. He lifted massive paws, carefully cradling Chris' jaw in one, resting the other on the smaller shoulder. The blonde let out a noise akin to a moan as Brian crowded him back against the railing, shoving his phone in his pocket to free up his other hand. He let his hand wander over Brian's cotton-clad chest for a moment before settling it in the bend of the other's arm, surrendering his mouth to a curious tongue. His back arched, pushing his chest against the bigger man's when hands moved from his head to his hips. When thick fingers slipped under his shirt and started wandering up his chest, Chris broke the kiss and pulled away, snatching up Brian's hands. "I didn't shave my nipples," he blurted.

"... What?" Brian asked, stunned. The smaller man turned his head away, his face bright red.

"I didn't think we'd be doing anything today, so I didn't bother shaving around my nipples," he muttered through a pout.

"I never shave around my nipples," Brian said, a note of confusion in his voice.

"Yeah, well!" Chris said, turning to look at Brian with his lower lip puffed out. "My body hair grows in strange patterns. They're like birds' nests, hiding tiny, pink eggs," he whispered, getting quieter and softer with each word. The redhead let out a hearty laugh, wrapping his arms tightly around the smaller man, crushing him to his chest in a hug.

"So, did you conveniently have your nipples shaved when we went fishing a few weeks ago?" Brian teased, breathing the words right in Chris' ear.

"Yes, actually," he whimpered, hands splayed over Brian's pecs. "I usually shave them when I shave my pits and face. About once a week or so." The bigger man chuckled, petting Chris' hair.

"Body hair doesn't bother me, hun," the redhead promised, urging Chris back just enough that he could take his lips again. The blonde lifted his arms to wrap them around a thick neck, settling in to the feeling of broad palms holding him by the hips. They ignored their beeping phones in favor of tasting each other, not breaking apart until Chris' phone rang. He grunted irritably. "Better check it," Brian said, trying his best not to sound disappointed, running his hand through his hair, "could be Amanda."

"It's Robert," Chris deadpanned. The bigger man couldn't help but scoff.

"Go ahead and answer it," Brian instructed. "It's probably not all that good of an idea to get excited right now, anyway." Chris sighed, but answered his phone anyway.

"You've reached Long John's Strippers where we've got male dancers that will put both Ron Jeremy and Robert Downey Jr. to shame. This is Chris speaking, how may I help you?" Brian stifled a laugh in his hand at the greeting. Robert's response was loud enough to hear when the blonde pulled the phone away from his ear.

"What have you done?!" Robert shouted. Chris put the phone on speaker and laid it on the railing so he could light a cigarette. "Hugo won't take no for an answer about his stupid trivia night bullshit. What the hell did you say to him? I woke up to some lengthy Dadbook messages about how you said I wanted to hang out with him and he'd be happy to treat me to a cheese board or some shit." Chris and Brian couldn't contain their laughter, the blonde choking on smoke. "I'm gonna kill you, Ratte. Shit." After another round of laughter, Brian patting Chris on the back when he coughed, Robert groaned. "Yeah, real funny. Now I have to go on a date with Hugo."

"Oh, you're really going?" Chris asked, tears of both pain and joy building at the corners of his eyes.

"Well, yeah," Robert muttered. "Take me off speaker, I don't want your boyfriend hearing this."

"Do you mind?" Chris asked.

"No, go ahead," Brian said. "I'll clean up."

"Thanks," and he stood on his toes to peck the other's lips. Chris headed down to the grass to pick up his cigarette butt from earlier. "Alright, go."

"Yeah, I'm gonna go, I guess. But I won't enjoy it. Free food and wine, so, whatever."

"What do you mean you won't enjoy it? You will have so much fun," Chris said, rolling his eyes. He stalked around the fire pit as they talked. "You'll get drunk and expect Hugo to take advantage of you, but he'll just walk you home and you'll fall in love." Robert grunted.

"You think you know me, but you don't know shit," he mumbled.

"Just try to have fun, Robert," the blonde said, smiling to himself. "That's what I'm going to do right now with the two hours I have left with Brian before our kids get home. We should go to Jim and Kim's after you go to trivia with Hugo. It is your turn to buy," he taunted.

"You can go and fuck yourself if you think I'm buying after that stunt you pulled," Robert groused. A loud shuffling noise could be heard, roaring in Chris' ear for a moment.

"Christ, Robert," he complained. "What was that?"

"I'm getting out of bed. Screw you early birds," he hissed.

"... It's two in the afternoon."

"Yeah, I'm up an hour early."

"Well, at least you'll be fresh and energetic for trivia night, I guess."

"It's on Wednesday, and I reserve the right to hate you until Friday."

"Fair enough. I'm gonna get offa here. You can message me if you want, but I'm going to go get another bowl of this amazing chili he made."

"Uh, you should bring some over here. Start making this mess up to me." Chris laughed in response.   
  
"I'll see what I can do. Bye, Robert."

"Peace, Ratte."

Chris hung up and tossed his cigarette butt in the pit. He headed up the steps and found the grill out and the chili had been taken inside. Brian waved him in, handing him his reheated coffee with a smile.

"Hey, um, could I get another bowl of chili?"

"Already laid one out for you," Brian said, gesturing to the kitchen counter.

"You're too good to me," Chris said, his voice wet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It looks like I'm leaving in a few hours to go spend the holidays at my boyfriend's family's place, which... should be interesting. They don't really like me, because they can't handle the idea of their baby boy not being straight, but the drams are... fun, I guess. I'm polite, so we never fight or argue. I just think it's funny that they think I turned him "gay".
> 
> Anyway! That's enough venting. I just wanted to let anyone who is currently enjoying this story know that I might not update for five or six days, given I actually get involved in the holiday festivities. We already missed Festivus, so we'll see how Christmas goes.


	6. Chapter 6

The week seemed to drag on and on for Chris, and finally Robert messaged him for drinks on Friday.

"Manda Panda?" he called from the living room, his laptop balanced on his knees, a cup of coffee in one hand.

"Yeah, what?" she asked, peeking her head out of her room.

"Did you have any plans for this weekend?"

"Yeah, actually. Are you cool with me going to Emma's all weekend?" Amanda asked, stepping out of her room.

"Which Emma?"

"P.," was the answer.

"Do you remember the rules for staying out all weekend?" he asked, sending Robert a quick 'hold on' message before picking up his laptop to set it on the coffee table. Amanda rolled her eyes, though one corner of her mouth quirked up.

"Yes," she groaned faux-miserably, "Call every night at nine at night and put a parent on the phone so you know I'm actually at their house or with them, and text you after I brush my teeth."

"Awesome," he said, nodding into his mug. "Well, you better get going if you're going, since it's almost seven now."

"Oh, yes," she teased, "I have to rush so I can call you from Emma's house in two hours. You know how far away her place is." Chris frowned briefly.

"It did seem like they were light years away just a couple weeks ago, Panda," he said, setting his cup aside and standing.

"Yeah, well, you know how high schoolers are, I'm sure," she said with a loose shrug.

"I know how mature my baby girl is," the blonde said, throwing an arm around her shoulders.

"Your 'baby girl' ain't a baby no more!" she joked, baring her teeth in a brilliant grin.

"I suppose you're not, Panda," he said, lifting his hand to ruffle her hair, only digging his fingers in harder when she slapped at him for messing up her hair.

"Augh," she groaned, giving him a shove. "You just set my trip back by ten minutes," she complained with a playful pout, pulling out her headband. She turned to head to her room, then stopped. She cocked her head to look at her father, who had reached over for his coffee. "Hey, dad?"

"Yeah, Manda?" he asked against the rim of the mug.

"Are you going out to drink with Robert tonight?" she asked, worrying the yellow fabric in her hands.

"Probably. Why? Something come up?" he asked.

"No," she started, frowning slightly, "just... pace yourself tonight." Chris turned to her, putting a hand on his hip.

"I always do, Panda."

"I know, but, like, you also usually drink a lot more," she explained, leaning her head back to stare the man down. "You didn't really drink this week, so I just thought I should remind you that your tolerance might... have gone away, or something."

"I drank this week," Chris said, brows pinched. "We had fish on Wednesday, and I always have two or three beers with fish." Amanda stuffed her headband in her jacket pocket to put her hands on her hips.

"Two or three beers isn't even worth a shot of whiskey, dad," she scolded. "Beer and liquor aren't the same thing." She waited a moment, putting a finger to her chin in thought. "Not that I would know from personal experience," she explained, "but I've done my research. I know how much you usually drink." Chris awkwardly held his mug for a moment, looking to the television, then the rug, then back to his daughter.

"Is this something we're going to have to sit down and talk about?" he asked. Amanda shook her head and held her hands up in a placating gesture.

"Nah, pops," she said, giving a small smile. "It's not like you've ever shown up drunk to anything important. You plan it all around my life, and I really appreciate that. As long as you're careful, I don't mind if you have a few drinks a week." She then winked when she added; "I call it your mid-life crisis," she joked. Chris took a deep breath and frowned, the opposite reaction Amanda had expected. She raised her brows while she waited for him to say something.

"I don't like that you're making excuses for me. The fact that you're surprised I haven't had much to drink this week is troubling to me," he admitted, barely more than muttering.

"I'm not making excuses, dad, I'm making jokes," Amanda clarified. "I would tell you if your drinking was a problem. Trust me. To be honest, the competition thing you had going on with Brian was way worse than how much you drink, because that actually affected me and one of my friendships."

"What?" Chris gasped, clutching his mug tightly. "Which friendship? Oh my god, I didn't blow off taking you to an Emma's house when I was so focused on one-upping Brian, did I?" He looked horrified, gray eyes wide and his brows nearly at his hairline. "Oh hell, I was in the midst of that whole thing when you found out that guy you liked was dating one of your friends," he trailed off, scrubbing his free hand over his face. Amanda felt bad for it, but she laughed, putting her hand over her mouth when she snorted.

"No," she groaned. "Daisy," Amanda clarified. "For a while, Daisy and I were worried that you two hated each other, and were only putting up with seeing each other for our sakes.

"You paid attention to my drama pretty well, dad," she said, smiling softly. "A drunk couldn't do that, now could they?"

"No, we shouldn't lie to ourselves," Chris said. "I am a drunk," he muttered.

"Actually, I don't think so," Amanda said, pulling her phone from her pocket. "I'm not counting the beer, because that wouldn't even get me tipsy - not that I would know from personal experience. I'm just guessing based on how much I weigh and how much I eat and so on - but, one sec," she said, pulling up Google. "How many drinks do you have when you go out with Robert?"

"Depends on where we go," the blonde answered honestly.

"More than five?"

"Not if we're chillin' at Jim and Kim's, no."

"Alright," she said. "How many if you hang out... uh, where else do you hang out with Robert at?" she asked, looking up from her phone to stare at her father with a raised brow.

"The woods, the graveyard, his kitchen," Chris listed. "What?" he asked as Amanda's brows kept raising.

"Do you seriously get drunk in the graveyard?" she asked.

"Well, we did once. But most of the time when we're in the graveyard, we're, uh," and he felt twice as ashamed as he thought he should for being more embarrassed over admitting that he went ghost hunting than that he might be an alcoholic. Red rose to his cheeks and his mouth wavered as he looked away again.

"You're not hooking up with Robert in the graveyard, are you?" Amanda asked lowly. Chris squawked in an undignified manner, turning to look at his daughter like she'd grown a second head.

"We're ghost hunting, Amanda!" he squealed, his voice an octave higher than it's usual. After taking a moment to calm down, he reached out with his free hand and placed it on her shoulder. He gave it a firm squeeze. "I solemnly swear that I will never 'hook up' with Robert. In a graveyard or anywhere else." Amanda blinked slowly.

"I don't really care if you do, I just don't want to hear about it," she said awkwardly.

"Well, since it will never happen, there's no chance you will ever hear about it," he promised, entirely too seriously.

"I believe you," Amanda answered in kind. "But that's not really the point. How many drinks do you have elsewhere?"

"Well, when we went out to the woods, we shared a bottle between us, but that was one of the rare occasions where- well, I'm not that young anymore, so, usually, like, not really more than three or four shots. Except the rare... binge." Amanda hummed as she typed on the tiny keypad.

"Lord Google says you're on the border." She shut off her phone's screen and looked up. "Just be careful, dad. I don't want you dying on me from liver failure."

"Oh, Amanda, I've still got a good twenty years left in me at the very least," he promised.

"If you cut back, that is," she said sternly.

"I have been," he defended himself. Amanda brightened.

"I know, right? Brian's been good for you!" Chris rolled his eyes.

"Go get ready to go," he groused.

"Yes sir!" she said, turning again to head toward her room. "Oh, and if you need me to pick you up from the bar, don't hesitate to call. Half an hour out of my evening isn't a big deal for my dad's health and safety."

"I won't get trashed, Amanda," he complained. "But, thank you."

"Or you could always call Brian," she teased.

"Amanda Ann!"  
  


* * *

 

After getting the call from Amanda, Chris wandered down to Jim and Kim's.

"I hate you," was how Robert greeted his friend when he slid into the booth across from him. "Don't get comfortable. We're going to sit at the bar and you're going to drink Irish coffee until you're inebriated enough that I feel comfortable talking to you." With an arched brow, Chris stood back up and reached for his drink to take with him, but Robert's hand was quicker. The older man snatched up the shot and he downed it before setting the cup down just a little too hard and leaving it as he herded the blonde toward the bar. "Irish coffee for this guy," Robert said to Neil, tapping on the bar with one finger, "extra Irish and extra sweet." Chris shook his head.

"I thought you only reserved the right to hate me until Friday?" the blonde teased.

"I'm extending it," was the grumbled answer. "I think I'm gonna hate you for a while."

"Yet you're drinking with me," Chris said, thanking Neil for the drink when it was placed in front of him. "That was fast," the blonde noted.

"Yeah, and you have to suffer for what you did," Robert said, knocking back the rest of his own drink. He knocked on the bar to get Neil's attention and his glass refilled.

"How many in are you?"

"Don't worry too much, sweetheart," Robert teased, "that was only my second." He grinned once he had a newly filled glass in his hand. "Start on yours," he ordered, a devilish look on his features.

"It's hot," Chris complained, "give it a minute to cool. Hey!" he complained when Robert pried a chunk of ice from his whiskey and plunked it into his younger companion's cup.

"Drink. You must suffer with me," Robert said, his grin having turned into something akin to a sneer. Chris grunted and took a cautious sip of his coffee, finding it at a bearable temperature.

"It couldn't have been that bad," the blonde complained. He took in about a third of his drink in one long pull, giving a quiet sigh of pleasure at the taste when he sat it down.

"You're right," Robert said with a nod. "It was worse." Chris' shoulders sagged and Robert made a gesture with his hand, an order to keep drinking. The blonde did, calling for another when his first was gone. A second coffee was placed in front of him, and the younger man slapped Robert's hand away when he made to put another ice cube in the drink, and the cold cube clattered to the floor.

"Oops," Chris said, shrugging again as he sipped carefully at his hot drink. "So, tell me what happened."

"This nerd," Robert started, splaying the fingers of one hand, "this fuckin' nerd, alright?"

"Yes, we've established that Hugo is a nerd," Chris mumbled with a roll of his eyes. Robert pursed his lips and glared.

"So, we went to his damn trivia night," the older man mumbled.

"Yeah?" Chris asked, drawing out the word. Robert set his glass down and played with the rim.

"You're not drunk enough yet," he groused, staring at the blonde.

"I'm not drunk at all yet," the younger man countered. "The reason I get so trashed on this stuff is because it tastes so good I don't realize how much I drink." Robert pushed his drink toward Chris and, with an over-dramatic sigh, the younger man downed it. "Still gonna take a few minutes to kick in. Might as well spill your guts."

"This fucking nerd has most of the answers to everything, right? And he's stuffing me with cheese, and not complaining when I drink glass after glass of this expensive wine," Robert started, gesturing with his hands. "But he's eyeing Mat this whole time, so I kinda figured he had a thing for him and started zoning out, drinking more of the wine. Which, ya know, it actually tasted pretty good. I didn't know what half the cheeses were, even though the nerd fucking went on and on about them and, like, what flavors the wine brought out in them and how they were made and shit. He brought me back into paying attention somehow, and I was bitter as fuck because here he was eyeing Mat, and I thought we were supposed to be on a date." Robert stopped abruptly. "Are you gonna drink that or not?"

"I'm drinking, I'm drinking," Chris complained into the rim of his glass, taking another sip. "Jesus. Go on."

"When I caught him eyeing Mat again, I slipped off my shoe and started running my toes up his ankle." Chris' mouth fell open at that.

"You didn't," he gasped.

"Yeah, I did, and he choked on a cracker. Served him right," and Robert paused to cross his arms, "or so I thought, anyway." The older man nearly pouted as his companion raised a brow at him, staring intently as he took a long pull from his beverage. "Turned out he was just mad because Mat had the winning answer for his team last week. I felt like an ass," he grumbled. "He was trying to throw the man off his game, and I thought it was flirting." Chris laughed and Robert bared his teeth.

"Oh, calm down. I would have done the same damn thing," the blonde said with a shake of his head. "That's cute," he cooed, "I can't believe you're upset at me for that." Robert's face then fell to a mask of indifference briefly, before he looked away with a huff. At some point in their conversation, Neil had refilled Robert's glass.

"That's not the worst part," the brunette grumbled, uncrossing his arms to grab his glass.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, no, neither of us is drunk enough for me to talk about it yet."

"Christ, Robert. What happened?" Chris asked, turning bodily toward the older man. Robert's cheeks dusted with pink and he looked physically pained.

"Let me get another couple shots in me first," he said, refusing to look at the blonde as he tipped back his drink.

"Wait," the blonde said, setting his empty glass aside. He reached out and put a hand on Robert's knee. "Hugo didn't hurt you, did he? Do I have to hide a body?"

"Get outta here," Robert grumbled, swatting Chris' hand off of him. "It's nothing like that, Jesus," he said with a roll of his eyes. "It's just embarrassing. Until this kicks in, why don't you tell me what's going on with you and your not-twink?"

"I mean, nothing's really changed. We had a few meals together this week. That's about it," the younger man said with a shrug.

"You mean you haven't touched his dick yet?" Robert said, leaning in. Chris pushed him back.

"When would I have had the time during the week to do that?" the blonde groused into the rim of his cup.

"Uh, when the kids are at school?" Robert asked, rolling his eyes.

"You mean when he's working?"

"Oh, shit," the brunette said, his brows raising. "That's right. Some people have nine-to-fives still." Chris took a turn at rolling his eyes. He downed the rest of his drink, and motioned to his glass when Neil looked his way.

"I'm three drinks in and I'm starting to feel it. I'm gonna sip this one. Now that you're up to date on my love life, tell me this awful thing that happened with Hugo."

"I don't feel up to date on your love life. Nothing new happened," Robert complained.

"We kissed a little bit and had the STD talk. Does that make you feel better?"

"No," the older man complained, frowning. "Tell me when someone touches someone else's dick. Then I'll feel better."

"Speaking of dicks," Chris encouraged, making a gesture that encouraged Robert to talk. The brunette groaned miserably.

"No, god no. Mine is chaffed," he mumbled, dragging a hand down his face. "I don't even want to talk about how much I've jerked off these past couple nights."

"Then why'd you bring it up?!" the blonde asked, throwing his head back in an exasperated gesture.

"Because it's your fault."

"My fault?" Chris asked, putting the backs of his fingers to his mouth when he dribbled a bit of his drink. "Yes, I totally held you at gunpoint and made you masturbate several times the past couple days." Robert made an irritated noise.

"You set me up with Hugo, and your actions led to Hugo pinning me to my bed, getting me excited and leaving me there with an aching erection."

"Woah, woah. What?" the blonde gasped. "I think the liquor is kicking in. I'm not sure I heard you correctly. Our nerdy neighbor pinned you to your bed?"

"Yes," Robert hissed. "Fuck me," he groaned. "He walked me home, and I was tryin' to get some tail, and he pushed me inside, right?" Robert lowered his voice as he continued, leaning in conspiratorially. "I thought I was gonna get some. I mean, Hugo's not a bad looking guy. I'd totally normally have a one-off with him just to see what he looks like without that stupid tweed jacket.

"But, like, he was talking to me, and took off my jacket, got my shoes off," and as Robert listed the items of clothing he lost, Chris paid more and more attention, his eyes locked on Robert while he sipped his coffee absently. "I took him upstairs to my room, and my dumb ass tried to kiss him," he trailed off, looking around for any listeners.

"Yeah, and? What happened?"

"Dude pushed me down on my bed, flipped me over and held my arms behind my back. Fuck, I thought I'd got myself into some really kinky shit, but damn if I wasn't raring to go." Chris bounced a knee excitedly as he made hand motions encouraging the other to go on. "Then, he leaned down and whispered in my ear, in this husky voice I can't even- like, this sound had no business coming from Hugo, of all people-"

"What did he say, Robert? Fuck's sake," Chris said with an annoyed huff.

"He said, 'go to sleep, Robert'. I swear I died for a second." Robert sat back, unable to stop himself from grinning at the face his younger companion was making. "When he left, I about jerked my dick right off."

A moment of silence stretched between them while they sipped what was left of their drinks.

Eventually, the blonde asked; "You gonna go out with him again?"

"I kinda have to," Robert said, crossing his arms. "But right now, I need some dick something fierce."

"Can't help you there," Chris said with a shrug, turning back to his drink.

"Oh, come on!" the older man nearly whined. "It's your fault I'm in this mess to begin with."

"I'm kinda seeing someone."

"Doesn't seem much like it," Robert complained.

"Well, I am, and that's too bad for you because my dick doesn't go soft until we're both done with it. I can go long enough that you could get off from ass stimulation alone. Mm," he giggled into the rim of his glass, savoring the last sugary sip, "yes, it's too bad for you that I've got a boyfriend."

"You're an asshole," Robert groaned.

"Tell me something I don't know. Why don't you go beg Hugo for some dick?"

"And ruin my chances on down the line? He hasn't even messaged me since then. I don't want to see his smug face. Fuck. I'm drunk and horny. Help a brother out," the brunette nearly whined, scratching his stubbled jaw out of embarrassment at the tone of his voice.

"You've had maybe three shots," Chris complained. "How are you drunk?"

"I lied," Robert admitted with a shrug. "I had a few before you got here." The blonde gave an irritated huff in response.

"Can't trust ya as far as I can throw ya," he grumbled.

"Eh, you could trust me for probably about five feet in that case," Robert teased, leaning in once more.

"Five feet, which is as far away from me as you should be whenever you're horny and drunk," Chris teased back. "I was gonna share with you something I got in the mail today, but now I gotta be on dick watch," the younger man said with a shake of his head.

"Dick watch? You gonna be watchin' my dick, Ratte?"

"Yeah, to make sure it stays in your pants. Hopefully Hitler is a big enough turn-off for you to stay soft."

"Hitler? You got Hitler in the mail today?"

"Yes, I got one-hundred-something year old Hitler in the mail today. He's chillin' on my couch, waiting for us to come home and slur out questions at him."

"Sweet, let's go," Robert said, draining the last of his drink. Chris stared at him with wide gray eyes, unblinking.

"You know I was kidding, right?"

"Bitch, I know you know I'm not that stupid, even when I'm trashed. I figured you got, like, a documentary or something, and I'm down. I'm always down for war documentaries. You know that," the older man said, leaning on the bar while he waited impatiently for Chris to finish his coffee. "I figured we could swing by your place, grab the DVD-"

"DVDs," Chris stressed the s, "multiple," he clarified. Robert grinned.

"DVDs," the brunette also stressed the s, "then go back to my place and keep drinking while we watch them."

"Why don't we stay at my place? It's cozier," the younger man offered.

"Cozier might make dick watch more difficult," Robert warned.

"But it means less alcohol consumed and less of a mess for you to clean up in the morn- afternoon," Chris quickly corrected himself. Robert pulled a face.

"Oh, yeah, I forgot. You don't keep serious booze at your place."

"I've had enough for tonight, Robert. I'm going to be stumbling when we walk home as it is."

"You had, like, four shots," the older man complained, leaning in a dramatic way over the counter.

"You ordered my drinks stronger. I've had, like, six shots tonight, and I'm only feeling, like, three of them right now. I should probably get home before the rest kick in, anyway." Robert scoffed.

"Just last week you were fun," he noted. "What happened to that guy?"

"I'm still that guy," Chris said, his brow pinched. "I'm treating you to a show on Hitler! How am I not still fun? You're just mad because I'm not giving you any of my magic dick."

"Yeah, I am a little mad that you won't share your magical clone dick. It's not like you're going to be using it on Brian, so you should use it on me." The blonde pouted in response, puffing out his lips and scrunching his nose.

"Excuse you? How do you know I'm not going to be rocking Brian's world with my dick?"

Robert's sudden laughter had him slipping from the bar, curling up on himself in a hunched position on the floor. Chris kicked him in the shoulder, but the older man only laughed harder, drawing the attention of a handful of patrons.

"Alright, alright, stop. Stop making me laugh. Let's get out of here," Robert said, pulling himself up only to throw an arm around the blonde's shoulders. "It's cute that you think you'll be fucking Brian." The blonde shrugged the older man off of him and motioned to Neil to run his card. When he received a thumbs up from the bartender, he turned to Robert.

"Man, get off me if you're gonna be like that," he huffed. The two headed from the bar together, lighting cigarettes as soon as they were out the doors.

"Oh, come on. Do you really," and Robert drew out the word, "think you're going to be fucking Brian?"

"At some point, yeah," Chris hissed out around the filter between his lips. "You shouldn't assume from someone's size if they take it up the butt or not." Robert made a noise that was halfway between amused and irritated. "What about Hugo? Do you think he takes it up the butt?"

"Oh yeah," Robert said, nodding a bit too deeply, giving a joyous snort when the action made his step falter. "He likes it both ways, I'm sure."

"You're sure?"

"Yes."

"Did you ask him?"

"I'm, like, ninety-nine percent sure," Robert said, relighting his cigarette when he found it out.

"So, you didn't ask him," Chris said, raising a brow.

"It's not like I've really had a chance," the older man mumbled. "But, like, before he held me down, I would have sworn he would be the bitch in the relationship, but now I'm sure he does it both ways. He also really likes sucking dick, if his mustache is any indication." Chris stopped in his tracks at that, and Robert nearly knocked them both over as he spun around to figure out why his companion had stopped.

"The fuck?" was all the blonde could get out before dissolving into a giggle fit, tears building at the corners of his eyes before Robert could respond. "Wh- what- okay, hold on. Lemme try that again. What does a mustache have to do with the enjoyment of... phal.. fella... sucking dick? Words," he said, wiping a tear from his cheekbone with his fee hand.

"What self-respecting gay man would willingly wear a mustache if it wasn't for giving mustache rides?" Robert asked, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Chris dropped his cigarette in his giggle fit and shook his head in lieu of an answer.

"I am not sober enough to be having this conversation. Seriously," he said, straightening out to light a new cigarette, "let's get back to my place and get those DVDs."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back from Christmas with the bf's fam. It was... surprisingly nice. They were friendly and less dictatorial this time around. I would say I had a pleasant holiday season, and I hope you all did, too. 
> 
> Leave me your feelings thus far in the comments below.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a brief mention of suicidal thoughts in this chapter, just to warn y'all.

Chris woke to bright rays of sunshine over his face, and he groaned, turning away from the offensive sight.

"Fucking sun. Doesn't it know I was drinking last night?" he grumbled to himself.

"Maybe, but do you think it cares?" Robert asked from close by, startling the blonde so badly he jumped and cursed. Robert snorted. "Mornin', sunshine," the older man greeted.

"Fuck," Chris said again, pushing himself up on his elbows, lifting his head from the bed he soon realized he was in. "Oh, fuck," he said when realization sank in. "We didn't," and he trailed off, taking in the way Robert was leaning back against the headboard, nursing a glass of what the younger man hoped was water.

"I don't think so," Robert said with a one shouldered shrug. "I still had my pants on this morning, and you were fully dressed, so," and he shrugged again, then winced, turning his attention back to his drink. Chris sat up and immediately regretted it.

"Shit," he gurgled, putting a hand over his mouth.

"Don't you dare vomit in my bed, Ratte."

Ignoring that, the blonde asked; "Just how much did I drink last night?" He tried to draw his brows together, but the action hurt too much, so he let his face relax into something akin to a scowl.

"We finished off a bottle of whiskey I had laying around while we watched the first season of Hunting Hitler," Robert supplied. "Good show."

"I remember the show, but," Chris said as he drew his fingers over his forehead, then moved to massage his temples, "how did we end up here? Last thing I remember is complaining about being tired and you telling me to shut up because you were really into the show."

"I told you to go to bed if you were tired, and you did."

"So you thought it would be a good idea to join me?" Chris asked, finally able to pull a face.

"You got in my bed," Robert defended himself, pursing his lips.

"First, though," the blonde said, sagging back to the bed. He pulled the pillow he'd been drooling on to him, wrapping his arms around it. "You have a thing on your neck," he muttered into the soft pillowcase.

"Yeah, and I'm kinda pissed because my jacket won't cover it, you asshole." Chris groaned miserably in response.

"I knew I should have stayed at my house. Fuck," he complained.

"It's just a hickey," Robert groused, setting his empty glass on his bedside stand just a little too hard. He grabbed one of the many ashtrays scattered around his room and threw it on the bed between them, offering a cigarette to the blonde as he lit his own with his other hand. Chris took one and the offered lighter. "It's not like we fucked or anything," the brunette said while the younger man lit his cigarette. "At least I don't think we did. Else your dick's not big enough to leave an impression." He laughed at the offended face his companion made. "Are you sore?"

"Just my knee, but that's normal," the blonde admitted, flicking his ash over the already full tray.

"Then I didn't fuck you, and I'm not sore, so it looks like we necked for a bit, then fell asleep," Robert surmised, shrugging once more.

"God damn it," Chris groaned.

"Gee, thanks," Robert said, and when Chris looked up, he could almost see the irritation pouring off the older man.

"I don't mean it that way and you know it," the blonde nearly growled, stopped only by the dryness of his throat. "I'd gladly fuck you if we weren't both in relationships."

" _You're_ in a relationship," Robert corrected, pointing with his cigarette. "I've been on one date with the nerd. That's hardly a relationship," he said, his voice full of barely restrained irritation. "And I'm calling bullshit on you willingly fucking me. I've been barking up that tree for weeks now, and you've always shot me down.

"It's fine if you're not into one night stands or whatever, but don't lie about it," the brunette ordered, frowning deeply.

"No," the blonde said, forcing himself to calm physically with a deep breath and a sigh when he realized he was gearing up for a fight, "you've been trying to fuck me for weeks. Last night was the first time you ever mentioned wanting to get fucked." The fight left Robert all of the sudden.

"I never mentioned liking it both ways before?"

"Not that I remember," Chris said, pinching the bridge of his nose with his free hand.

"Well, shit," Robert said with a little huff of a laugh, "we could have been having even more fun all this time if only I'd been more specific about what I'm into."

"Maybe, maybe not," Chris said, stubbing his cigarette out in the tray. He felt at the pocket of his flannel for his smokes, finding them missing. "Where are my cigarettes?" Robert snorted.

"It's yours we're smoking," he said, holding out the pack. Chris snatched it up with a weak glare and lit another one. He stuffed his pack and lighter in his flannel pocket afterward.

"Anyway, Amanda already thinks we're hooking up in graveyards."

"Uhh," Robert said, a bit giddy, "that sounds great. I'd love to hook up with someone in that gazebo with the view." He seemed deep in thought for a moment, sighing out smoke from the corner of his mouth. "But not over a gravestone. I don't want to be haunted by some sex-hating spirit pissed at me for desecrating it's grave." Chris couldn't help but snort. "When did that come up in conversation?" Robert asked, a look of realization spreading over his features.

"Uh," the blonde said, as eloquent as ever. "We may have had a conversation about whether or not I'm an alcoholic."

"And? What was the conclusion, and how did hooking up in graveyards come up?" Robert reached out to steal a cigarette from the pack in Chris' breast pocket. The blonde gave an annoyed huff, but let him take one.

"I'm on the border, and when she asked all the places I drink, I mentioned the graveyard, and I was going to say that we mostly ghost hunt down there, but I hesitated, and she thought that meant sex." Chris' face was red by the time he was done speaking, and pursed his lips at the way Robert laughed.

"That's usually what a pause means, though. Smart kid." He looked at Chris for a long moment as he smoked. "What?" Robert asked sharply at the troubled look on the younger man's face.

"I'm not looking forward to telling Brian about this," he muttered.

"Then don't," Robert said.

"I can't do that," Chris snapped. "We're supposed to be in a serious relationship, and here I go necking with a drinking buddy. Maybe we fucked, I don't know. Fuck. I haven't gotten blackout drunk in a while," he said with a sigh, running a hand through his hair, thinking briefly about how he needed to cut it. Robert bore his teeth in an awkward grimace, irritation tightening his brow.

"He should expect shit like that from you," the brunette said before his brain caught up with his mouth. He left his lips parted for a moment, trying to decide if he regretted his words or not, but gave up on the internal argument and looked away, bringing his cigarette back to his lips. "I mean, we're both pieces of shit," he mumbled, "'s probably why we're friends." Chris didn't say anything for a long moment, and eventually Robert turned enough to look at him out of the corner of his eye. "Don't you cry."

"I'm not crying," Chris shot back. "Just... hating how true that is." He took a long pull from his smoke before stubbing it out in the tray. "I should go."

"Don't forget to grab season one of the show," Robert reminded, pushing himself up from the bed.

"Season one? There were two seasons," Chris said, momentarily confused out of the dark place he'd been.

"I know. I want to watch season two. I'll bring it back to you on Sunday." Chris intended to roll his eyes in answer, but instead hissed in pain when he tried.

"See you Sunday, then," the blonde said, holding his head as he headed for the door.

"Yup," was all Robert said.

At his own house, Chris went straight to the refrigerator, taking some painkillers with a swig of beer.

"That's probably not a good idea," he muttered to himself with a bitter little laugh. He took his anti-inflammatory as well with the same beer, and took the drink over to the dining room table. He sat for several long minutes, rubbing his head and debating with himself about if he would run or not. "Can't stop now," he said with a pained moan, and downed what was left of the beer. He threw the can at the garbage and flipped it off for making noise when he missed and the can clattered against the floor. He turned on the skillet to make a few eggs and grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator. He muttered to himself as he scrambled three eggs, then ate them straight out of the pan. He downed the water and refilled the bottle. After picking up the dented beer can and putting it in the trash, he headed to his room to change into some sweats.

When he returned home, Chris peeled off his sticky sweatshirt, mumbling under his breath; "two miles is good enough for an asshole with a massive hangover. Craig can go fuck himself if he thinks he's getting any more than that out of me today." He considered grabbing another beer but, with a heavy sigh, he refilled his water bottle. The sweat and water had him feeling a bit better, but the dull ache just behind his eyes was still there. Combined with realizing, again, every twenty minutes that he had to have an awkward conversation with Brian had him wanting to curl up under a blanket and just not deal with the world.

He settled on sitting on the couch with his water, a throw over his legs as he browsed channels. After he dazedly watched a few minutes of a mid-day cooking show, he let out a too-loud groan when his computer beeped at him with a message.

"I do not want to deal with this right now," he mumbled, throwing the thin blanket aside anyway.

He trudged out to the kitchen, dragging his feet. He refilled his water bottle that was only half gone to buy himself another moment before checking his messages. He sat down heavily at the kitchen table and pulled his laptop closer, as if it were a daunting task. When he realized the message was from Brian, his limbs suddenly felt like lead.

_Hey Chris! Saw you out running! Hope you worked up an appetite, because I made pulled pork for lunch, and I thought I might bring you some if you're not busy._

The feeling of wanting to crawl under a blanket returned, taking on a darker note with a brief thought of death. Though, he settled on just wanting to curl up on his big, plush bed, with his piles of pillows and stuffed animals, under multiple blankets. He even thought to position the plushes and pillows in such a way that no one would think he was in his bed even if they did manage to get past the locked bedroom door. Maybe he'd sleep until Amanda came home on Sunday, he thought. He typed out a message, rereading and retyping it several times.

_I don't know if that's such a great idea. I'm not feeling all that well today._

_Oh, I'm sorry to hear that! I could make you some soup instead. It might take a couple hours, but I can make you something._

"This bastard is too sweet," Chris complained to himself, ignoring the prickling sensation at the backs of his eyes as tears threatened to form.

_I'm not that kind of sick. I'm hung over._

"Might as well admit it," the blonde grumbled.

 _Then you definitely need to eat something!_  
_Wait, you're hung over and you went for a jog?_

 _If I miss a day, I'll have Craig up my ass._ Chris cringed as he hit send before he even thought about his language.

_Haha! I don't doubt it. Can I just bring you a plate? I won't bother you for too long if you're not feeling well, but I'd like to know that you ate something._

_I don't know, Brian. I'm not really feeling up to doing anything other than sleeping or jumping in front of a bus right now, and that second one is out of the question. Plus, we need to talk, and I'd like to feel like a human being instead of dumpster sludge when we do._

The blonde had to get up after sending that message. The phantom itch of anxiety drew his nails to his exposed tattoos, wearing only a t-shirt and sweats. He went to the living room and got his cigarettes, opting to have one on the back porch in case anyone found themselves curious.

When he came back in, he didn't want to look at his computer. He'd heard the chirps, but stayed outside to finish his smoke.

 _What's wrong, hun?_  
_Did I do something?_

Chris felt like he'd been punched in the gut and hurried to the sink, leaning over it to spew bile. Panting, he turned on the water to wash out the sink and his mouth. He splashed his face with cold water, relieved that the shock to his system stopped the tears from coming. Drying his hands on his shirt, he went back to his computer. His first message was simple.

_You didn't do anything wrong. I don't think you're capable of that._

But after that, he just sat and stared at the screen, tentatively sipping his water as an explanation escaped him. Eventually, another message came in, and the blonde considered smoking in the kitchen. He reminded himself not to, and opened his eyes to read the text that cropped up on his screen.

_I don't mean to be a mother hen, but you're worrying me. Can I bring you a plate of food and see you for a few minutes?_

"God damn it," Chris complained out loud, fighting the urge to slam his head into something.

_Fine. Just give me a few, alright? I need to take a really hot shower._

_Is fifteen minutes enough time?_

_Make it twenty._

_Alright. See you soon!_ and the heart emoji that followed made Chris' feel like he'd ripped it out of his chest himself.

He had another cigarette before he hopped in the shower, not bothering to even touch the cold knob until the pain was unbearable. He scoffed when he thought his actions might seem like an insult to Robert. He scrubbed himself with a loofah, rubbing his skin raw. He rubbed his fingers over his nipples, grunting at the sharp sting of stubble pricking his burned fingertips. He decided not to do anything about it and scrubbed his hair that was getting uncomfortably long. When he realized he could fist his hand in it with some left over, he made a mental note to get it trimmed.

As he was drying off, the doorbell rang. Chris looked up, wondering if twenty minutes had actually passed. He slipped his boxers back on and headed to the living room, billows of steam trailing him.

He pulled open the door and managed to smile at Brian's look of surprise. A blush rose to freckled cheeks and Chris' smile grew into a grin as he gestured backward, offering Brian to come in. He closed the door and looked to the plate in the other's hands.

"Looks like you brought enough for both of us," the blonde said.

"Oh, no, I just piled it on so you wouldn't have to cook today since you're not feeling well," the redhead said, his lips quivering as he didn't know if he should smile or not.

"I won't eat that much," Chris said with a little huff of amusement. "Even if I was feeling perfectly fine I wouldn't eat that much." He waited an awkward moment. "Will you-"

"You're steaming," Brian noted with a happy little noise. "It's in the upper sixties today," he informed. "Just how hot was your shower?"

"The water's never hot enough," the blonde said with a shrug. Brian raised a brow and sat the plate of food on the coffee table. He drew the nearly naked man into his arms, rubbing big hands over bare, warm skin.

"I like being able to see these," Brian admitted, pressing a soft kiss to the ink on Chris' shoulder. The blonde wormed his arms under Brian's loud shirt, wrapping his arms around the other's middle as best he could, curling himself into the bigger man, shaking as if he were cold. Brian frowned, his mustache lifting as he pursed his lips. "What's wrong?" he asked quietly, gently nudging the shorter man back.

"I was gonna ask if you'd eat with me first. I don't think I'll have the stomach for anything after we talk," Chris said, looking at Brian's chin rather than meeting his gaze. Meaty fingers cupped Chris' chin and raised his head so he'd look at concerned green eyes.

"Please tell me what's wrong," Brian requested quietly. "I'm not going to be able to eat anything while I'm this worried." Chris sighed and pulled away.

"Alright. Just... let me get dressed first."

"Okay," Brian said with a nod that the other didn't see.

When he returned from his room, Chris was wearing his standard jeans and tee, and he grabbed his flannel from the couch to throw it on. Brian tried not to look too disappointed at the covering of the vibrant tattoos.

"Come out back with me?" he asked, showing the other a cigarette.

"Sure," Brian said, uncertainty in his voice. He followed the shorter man through the kitchen and out the back door, a breathy 'oh,' escaping him at the sight of the beautiful tree. "I forgot about that," he said almost reverently.

"Yeah," Chris said with a little laugh. "That was one of the biggest selling points on this house. I won't lie, my inner weeb jizzed himself when he saw it." Brian stifled a laugh with his knuckles. "Amanda's face was priceless, too. I was super happy she liked the back yard. She took so many photos of it when we got here." He gave a happy sigh. Then his face fell, and he took out a cigarette. "Alright, so," he said once it was lit. "I didn't want to do this now, since I threw up earlier, but here's the thing;

"Robert and I got really drunk last night. That's why I'm so sick today." He took a deep breath. "I... woke up in his bed. We were both fully clothed, but I don't know what happened," he said it so quickly each sentence sounded almost like a single word. Brian let out a relieved sigh that was tinged with a hint of a sour chuckle. "I'm... not sure how to interpret that reaction," Chris admitted, looking up at Brian apprehensively. The taller man had a hand on his chest and he chuckled again.

"Well, I'm not exactly happy to hear this, but it's not as bad of news as I thought it would be," Brian said, a mild smile on his lips.

"But, I might have-"

"You said you were fully clothed," Brian interrupted, reaching out to give the shorter man's shoulder a pleasant, firm squeeze.

"I left a hickey on him! Or, ya know, it's always possible that I punched him, but..." Chris trailed off, bringing his free hand up to trace his fingers through the course red hair.

"Let me be honest with you," the redhead said, moving his hand up to Chris' neck, splaying his fingers over the side of it, stroking his thumb over a stubbled jaw, "I'm more upset that you got blackout drunk than that you gave Robert a hickey. When you said 'we need to talk,' I was terrified that you were leaving me, or telling me that you had cancer or something." He closed his eyes for a moment. Chris dropped his cigarette, forgetting he was even holding it at the numbness in his fingers. "I won't say it's okay, because it's not. Yes, I do want you all to myself, but more than that I want you healthy and safe." Brian opened his eyes again, offering the smaller man a soft smile, his brows raised in a hopeful manner. "We need to get your drinking habit under control, and I'm sure Craig is already on your case about you not eating enough."

"I was trying, I swear! I used to drink a couple times in the middle of the week when Amanda was busy, but I didn't this week! She even called me out on it," he said, taking a hold of the thicker arm. "Then my dumb ass goes and gets trashed, because that's the only time Robert will actually talk to me about serious shit because I'm not good at convincing people to talk to me without them being drunk, too, and, like, I like spending time with Robert, but we don't really, like, bond unless we're drunk or terrified." Chris stopped for a moment, his brows drawing together. "Okay, so I'm rambling and making excuses now, but I really did try. I had three beers on Wednesday, but until last night, that's all I had since," and he trailed off, realizing just how short of a time it had been since the last time he got plastered, "... Monday."

Brian took Chris' hand in his, his gaze soft as he said, "The first step is admitting you have a problem."

"I do, I know. I'm an alcoholic and a shitty person," the blonde muttered, almost pulling back when Brian squeezed his hand.

"You're not a shitty person," the bigger man said firmly. "You just need to get a handle on your vices and everything else will fall into place."

"I'm not going to AA," Chris said suddenly, pulling back to fix Brian with a pointed stare.

"It could help," Brian said, not letting go of the smaller hand when Chris started to move away. "Hey," he said softly, running the fingers of his free hand up the back of the blonde's fade, threading his fingers in the still slightly damp hair. "We'll figure something else out," he said, giving a gentle tug. The smaller body went willingly, folding himself against Brian. The redhead gave a small sigh into damp hair.

"I don't need people jamming Jesus down my throat. That's only going to make me mad, and that won't help anyone. AA has religious undertones, so I'm not doing it."

"Well, there goes that idea," Brian said with a huff.

"What?" Chris asked, once more snaking his arms under Brian's shirt, wrapping his arms around the bigger man.

"I was going to suggest you talk to Joseph," the redhead muttered sheepishly. Chris leaned his head back dramatically, still holding on to Brian's middle.

"How the f- I don't want to deal with that guy more than I have to."

"But," and Brian raised a brow, "you come to all of his cookouts."

"Well, yeah," the blonde mumbled, looking down at the pattern of the other's shirt, "to see Robert and Damien, and you," he got quieter near the end. Brian smiled and leaned down to press a careful kiss to Chris' lips. The smaller man gave a soft sigh when they parted. "I don't know how you could still want to kiss me," he said, voice airy.

"Like I've been saying," Brian started, gently scratching his nails through the smaller man's stubble, "I know you're not as terrible a person as you say you are, you just need to take better care of yourself. You already exercise every day. Why not get in touch with Craig and see if you can't get a healthier addiction? He kicked his bad habits. You can, too." Chris buried his face back in Brian's chest, pressing his cheek in until he could feel the other's body hair through the thin cotton.

"I know I can, but... What if I lose Robert?"

"Honey, why would you lose Robert?" Brian asked, easing the other back. Chris pressed a kiss between the other's pecs before drawing away, taking out another cigarette. He lit it before explaining;

"We got close over commiserating about being irredeemable pieces of shit. If I get my act together - more than functionally, I mean - he might not want anything to do with me anymore."

Brian put a hand to his beard, absently tugging it as he thought of how to phrase what he wanted to say. When he figured it out, he put his hands on his hips.

"It may have started that way," the redhead began, "but you're more than just drinking buddies now. You go ghost hunting, you sit and watch the History Channel together. If he wouldn't be happy for you for getting sober, I don't think you could really call him a friend to begin with.

"And it's not like you have to be one-hundred percent sober for the rest of your life," Brian offered. "It's okay to get tipsy every once in a while. Heck, even I sit down with a six pack or have a couple Irish coffees every once in a while. You just need to dial it back, and I really think it would help you to talk to someone about it." He eyed the smoking, downtrodden blonde as he said; "Speaking of talking to people... Do you think you'll feel up to coming to the cookout later today? If you look over there," and he pointed toward Joseph's yard, "you can see he's getting ready." As Chris looked over, the taller blonde waved. Chris plastered on what served for a smile at that distance and waved back.

"I hate that I don't have a privacy fence on that side of my yard," he grumbled. He turned to look at Brian after taking a long pull from his nearly spent cigarette. "I don't know, Brian, I'm surprised I got my ass out for a jog this morning. I don't know if I can handle seeing everyone right now."

"It's alright," the redhead said, reaching out gently take hold of the smaller man's bicep. "We'll just relax together on the couch today, then. See what's good on Netflix," he offered. "At some point I'll have to run the potatoes over to Joseph, but they're already balled up in foil and just need a brushing of butter and he can throw them on the grill to heat them up." Gray eyes widened.

"Fine, I'll go," he said, voice heavy with defeat. Chris' shoulders sagged. "I don't want you to miss hanging out with your friends over my bullshit." He flicked his cigarette toward Joseph's yard.

"You don't have to go," Brian promised. He followed the shorter man back into his kitchen through the door, sighing softly when Chris reached up to rake his fingers through his beard. Chris pulled the taller man down for a soft kiss.

"I know," he whispered, "... and thanks."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I started this, I didn't think it would be anywhere close to as long as my Hugo fic. I thought that with a precious cinnamon roll like Brian, I'd never be able to come up with a story that would be interesting beyond some domestic fluff. But, it looks like I've got plenty of ideas for drama here, and other... things... to explore, so I hope you're ready for a long ride.


	8. Chapter 8

Brian managed to convince Chris to eat half of a pulled pork sandwich and some buttery green beans. With a laugh of disbelief, Brian ate the rest of the sandwich when the blonde thrust it at him. He gave a smile when he wound up with the smaller man curled into him, and they sat there on Chris' couch for a while, simply sharing tender kisses and exploring each other's facial hair with their fingertips. 

"I should probably go take the potatoes over to Joseph," Brian said eventually, a hint of remorse tinging his voice. He tightened his grip on Chris when the blonde whined low in his throat, laughed when teeth clamped onto his thin cotton shirt. 

"Nn-nh," the smaller man said around a mouthful of cotton, clinging to Brian's sides.

"Oh, come on now," the redhead said lightly. "You can come with me," he offered on a hopeful note. The smaller man groaned again, squeezing Brian's middle harder. Brian lifted a hand and gently pried his shirt from the other's teeth. "You really like using those teeth, don't you?" he teased. Something hot and nearly salacious in Brian's voice made Chris shiver, and he nipped at one of the thick fingers near his face in retaliation. A warm chuckle made the blonde shake, and he soon pulled away from Brian, pouting up at him. "You don't have to go," Brian offered.

"I will, though," Chris said with a sigh. He climbed off of Brian and the couch and stretched. He then offered a hand to Brian and hauled him up when a bigger hand was placed in his. 

"Thank you, hun," Brian said, giving a closed-eye smile.

"You won't be saying that when Mary gets a hold of me and puts a couple glasses of wine in me," Chris grumbled. The redhead gave a weak frown. 

"Don't you think it would be better to hold off today?" Brian asked, taking hold of Chris' shoulder when he made to turn away. "Especially after having so much to drink last night?" When the blonde didn't answer, Brian gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Chris."

"Yeah, alright," the shorter man said, shrugging off the other's touch. "I won't drink," he gave, "but I'm going to be annoying your ass the entire time." Brian beamed.

"You can try to annoy me," the redhead taunted playfully.

"I am the most annoying. I could annoy Gandhi."

"Unlikely," Brian said with a little wink. "But you're welcome to try annoying me." He threaded his fingers in the longer part of the other's hair. "And, if you don't drink, we can go get ice cream later." Chris huffed.

"I've got ice cream in my freezer. You've going to have to do better than that." He grinned as Brian sputtered, looking for his words. Chris raised a brow deviously. "Could I lick it off of you?"

"Ah- uh- Is that-" and the freckled man cleared his throat, "-Is that something you want?" He looked away, hand curled by his lips awkwardly.

"Wait- I was joking," Chris said, "... but yes."

"I suppose we could do that. I'll see if Daisy wants to spend the night with Carmensita and," he trailed off, his shoulders hunched, cheeks red. Chris smiled - not grinning or sneering, but honestly smiling, touched by the bigger man's willingness, endeared by his embarrassment. He took a thick wrist in his hand and pulled it toward him, taking one of Brian's hands in both of his. 

"I won't ask you to do that, sweetheart," Chris said, shaking his head.

"Well, it might not be so bad," Brian nearly squeaked, gaze averted. "Just... sticky things and body hair... aren't always a good combination," he muttered. 

"That's what showers are for," the blonde teased, a smirk back on his face. "I bet you have a nice one, too. Mm, you probably remodel your bathroom every couple years and get a new showerhead every time a better one comes out, don't you?" Brian's blush only intensified. "You do, don't you?" he asked, lowering his voice to an obscene growl. He then chuckled. "I only replace my showerheads when CLR won't do the trick." He pressed kisses to each of the knuckles on Brian's hand in his own until the other calmed enough to look back at him. "I won't ask you to do that, though," he said with a firm nod. "Besides, we," and he trailed off, stepping away and letting go of the bigger man's hand, "...we have to talk about some things before we can get intimate, anyway."

"We do?" Brian asked, putting his hands on his hips.

"I mean, yeah," and suddenly Chris' throat felt like it was swelling, felt the air being robbed from him like when he used to have asthma attacks in middle school, "I mean," he squeaked on too little breath, "I may have fooled around with Robert." He'd said each word slowly, in a small voice. "I'd like to assume he's clean, since he's my friend and all, but... we've never really talked about that. And, there's other... things."

"Well, until which point you can get tested again, we can use condoms," Brian said. Chris found himself surprised that the redhead wasn't shying away from the topic. "What other things do we need to talk about?"

"Ah," and the blonde shifted from foot to foot nervously, "l-later? Don't we need to get those potatoes over to Joseph?" Brian straightened himself out and stared the shorter man down.

"Is it that bad that you'd rather deal with Joseph than talk about it right now?" he asked.

"I- no, it's just not something I like talking about, and I'll want to go hide in bed afterward, so-" and his voice suddenly took on a fake cheery note, "-let's go get those potatoes!"

"Alright," the bigger man said, drawing out the word in a way that made it sound like a question. 

Chris grabbed his things and smoked a cigarette while he waited for Brian to grab his spiced potatoes from his house. The redhead handed him a bag, and they carried them to Joseph's together, the smaller man finishing his cigarette in the process. He flicked it out into the road in front of Joseph's driveway before they headed around to the gate to the back yard. 

The taller blonde thanked them for the potatoes and took the foil packages from the plastic bags to throw them on the grill and heat them while they waited for other guests to filter in. 

"Oh, sweet freedom," Chris said when Damien wandered in with a tray of cucumber sandwiches. "I'm gonna go hang out with Damien," he told Brian, standing on his toes to place a quick kiss on the other's lips before running off to intercept the other otaku. 

Joseph raised a brow at the redhead who could only give a nervous chuckle. 

After the rest of the neighborhood had wandered in and broke off into small groups to chat, Robert sauntered up to where Chris and Damien were seated, ever present glass of whiskey in hand.

"What're you weebs talkin' about?" he asked, leaning an arm on Damien's shoulder.

"Naruto," Chris supplied.

"Fuck," Robert said, downing the rest of his drink. "You really are talking about anime. I'm gonna need a few more drinks in me to take part in this conversation. You drinkin', Ratte?" The blonde sighed, drawing Damien's attention, causing him to cock his head slightly as he along with Robert waited for the blonde's answer. 

"Not today, Robert," Chris said. Robert stared him down for a long moment, and Damien looked between the two. His shoulders hunched slightly as tension filled the air, wondering what had happened between the two.

"Eh, suit yourself," the brunette said with a shrug. "Which one is Naruto?"

"Oh!" Damien said, relieved at the dissipation of the tension. "Naruto is a lovely anime about a young ninja and his quest to get stronger, save his friend, and become his country's leader."

"Yeah, and there's a lot of colorful characters, and a giant war-" Chris started, only for Robert to interrupt him;

"War? Now you've got my attention," he said, pulling up a plastic lawn chair between the two. 

They filled the wait for burgers with describing to Robert the events of the show. When Joseph called everyone to come get some glorious meat, the three continued chatting as they waited for their turn at heart attacks on buns for Chris and Robert, and a spicy black bean veggie burger for Damien. 

"So, they're magic ninjas?" Robert asked, yet again.

"We've been over this three times now," Chris groaned. "Damien, it's your turn again."

"Well, as I said before, you could call it magic if you wanted to, I suppose, but- um," he pursed his lips when a figure walked up behind Robert.

"But what?" Robert asked, his voice cracking when a broad hand was placed at the back of his neck, giving a firm squeeze.

"Dashing sweater, Robert," Hugo said to announce himself. "Isn't it a bit warm for a turtleneck, though?" he teased. Taking a deep breath to compose himself, Robert straightened. 

"Nah," he said, thrusting his hands in the pockets of his jacket, "I'm always cool." Hugo chuckled. 

"I hope you don't mind if I butt in to your conversation for a bit," Hugo addressed Damien and Chris, giving the back of Robert's neck another squeeze. 

"Not at all!" Damien cheered. Robert was thankful that the man's voice was louder than the sound he let out in response to Hugo's touch. When he realized Chris was grinning, he flipped the younger man the bird and shrugged out of Hugo's grip. 

"Hey," he said, pointing at Chris. "Your boyfriend promised me potatoes. Where are they?" Chris gave a dramatic shrug of his shoulders, turning to Joseph to get his burger.

"Over here, Robert," Brian called, holding up a large plastic scoop. When the older man trotted over, Brian continued; "My bush better remain unharmed."

"As long as I get those delicious potatoes," Robert agreed, holding out his plate. Brian huffed out a chuckle and scooped a liberal amount onto his paper plate. After Robert made off with his potatoes and a burger, running off to eat alone, Hugo shook his head and decided to join Chris and Brian, Damien tailing him. 

The group chatted as they ate, and eventually Damien wandered off to chat with Joseph and Mary, Hugo opting to pick a playful argument with Mat. 

"Here," Brian said, picking up a mug from next to the grill.

"What's this?" Chris asked, taking it.

"Coffee," Brian explained. "Black and sweet, like you like. Since just about everyone else is drinking, I figured you could have at least one of your vices today," he said with a wink.

"Vices?" the blonde asked after taking a test sip.

"Caffeine," the taller man said. 

"Oh, right," Chris said. He gave a little laugh and moved closer to the redhead, sipping his drink. "Thanks," he mumbled. 

"You're welcome," Brian said with a smile. "I'd hug you, but my hands are greasy," he offered.

"It's alright," the blonde said with a shake of his head. "Are we going to go get ice cream soon?" he asked, turning wide gray eyes and an excited smile up at the other. 

"You want to eat and run?" Brian asked, raising his brows.

"I've already socialized enough for an entire week while waiting for burgers, man," Chris complained. The redhead chuckled, nursing his own soda. 

"Hmm... I suppose we could get going soon. I just need to make sure Mat's alright with Daisy spending the night."

"Oh," Chris said quietly.

"Hm?" Brian asked.

"You're really going to clear a whole night for us?" the blonde asked, staring down into his cup. Brian lifted his hands a little, unsure of what to do with them. He wanted to embrace the smaller man, but wasn't sure if he should.

"Honey, I'm not going to ask you to do anything you're not ready for, if that's what you're worried about."

"No, what I mean is- You want to spend a whole night with me?"

"Of course!" the bigger man cheered. "Spending time together and getting to know each other more is an important part of a healthy relationship." Chris looked away, a wry smile on his lips.

"Maybe," the blonde said, barely audible, "we can have a healthy relationship."

"I know we can," Brian assured him. "Let's go say good bye to everyone, wash our hands and get out of here, huh?"

Once Brian was certain Mat, Carmensita and Daisy were all happy with the evening's arrangements, he and Chris washed their hands in Joseph's kitchen before heading off down the street, taking a nice long walk to an ice cream place several blocks away. The blonde smoked like a chimney on the walk, and when he lit his third of the trip, Brian eased it out of his hand. He put it out on the brick of a building they were walking by and handed what was left back to his partner.

"If you're stressed out," he started, wrapping an arm around the smaller shoulders, "I'd appreciate it if you'd talk to me instead of smoking half a pack."

"Sorry," Chris said after a long moment, correcting his step to keep pace with Brian. "I'm just not great at the whole 'talking about my feelings' thing. You've already seen how I ramble and go off on tangents." He chose his words carefully, hoping not to put a dampener on the evening. "I'm still excited for ice cream, though."

"Glad to hear it," Brian said with a warm chuckle. "Want to share a Giant Banana Split?"

"The giant? Aren't those, like, twenty bucks?"

"Yes, but they're worth it," the redhead said, pulling the blonde more into his side, hoping the other caught the unspoken 'you're worth it.' 

"Can we get it without whipped cream?"

"What?" Brian asked, pulling a face. "But whipped cream is part of what makes an awesome sundae."

"I hate the stuff," the smaller man said with an annoyed huff. "Will you eat all of it for me?"

"If that's what you'd prefer," the redhead said, easing himself away from Chris when they reached the shop to hold the door open for him. Chris raised a brow and snorted before walking in.

They sat down in a booth with their Giant Banana Split, and the slighter man waited patiently for Brian to clean it of whipped cream.

"Mind if I ask why you don't like whipped cream?" Brian asked, scooping up the last of it. "Is it a texture thing, or is it maybe too sweet?"

"Neither," Chris said, finally reaching out to swirl a spoon through the chocolate and melting ice cream. "The bitch who adopted me put it on everything, so I hate it because of that. That's all," he said, putting a heaping spoonful of vanilla and chocolate sauce in his mouth. "Mm, maybe I'm too old to have those kinds of hang-ups, but whatever. It's my life to live and I'll be butthurt about whatever I want." Brian blinked, holding his spoon awkwardly over the dish.

"Are you alright?"

"Define 'alright'," Chris said with a grin, reaching over to scoop some strawberry and a small chunk of one of the bananas. At Brian's concerned look, the blonde sighed. "I'm fine, really. One could even say I'm happy in this moment." He gave a soft smile and dug his partially occupied spoon into the chocolate, smearing the strawberry through it. "Good food, good company, my daughter is making up with her friend before they go off to college..." He brought the messy bite to his mouth and smiled around the spoon. "Yeah, I'm happy."

Brian gave a brilliant smile, and the two dug in to the treat. They chatted briefly about their children, then turned their attention to evening plans. They decided on a movie, then seeing where the night went. Chris couldn't help but laugh, folded nearly double at the sight of his companion with ice cream all over his beard. When the redhead gave Chris a quizzical look, the smaller man got out of his seat and grabbed some napkins. He dabbed at his partner's face, his hands shaking with his laughter, before leaning down to steal a kiss.

"Thank you," he whispered against plush lips. Brian's eyes fluttered closed and he smiled, reaching up to cup the back of Chris' head, bringing their foreheads together.

"Home?" the redhead asked after a long moment.

"My place or yours?" Chris teased. Brian stood, wrapping an arm around the shorter man.

"Mine," he said, pulling the other close. A quiet sound escaped Chris as he was squished against the larger form.

"O- okay," he said, heat rising to his cheeks. 

Back at Brian's place, said homeowner put on a pot of coffee, and they watched television absently with their hot beverages with Maxwell bounding around them happily until they gave him attention. After refilling their cups, the redhead put on a random movie suggested by Netflix to play in the background. Brian wrapped an arm around Chris' shoulders, and they curled up together, listening to more than watching Dead Poets Society. Eventually Maxwell curled up in his bed, tucked into a corner near the fireplace.

They wound up putting their mugs on the coffee table to pay more attention to each other, Brian pulling an entirely too-willing Chris into his lap. The blonde wrapped his arms around Brian's neck, the bigger man's meaty paws simply resting on slimmer hips. The pair spent several long minutes kissing, simply molding their lips together with their eyes closed, pressing flesh against flesh, dry and soft and tender. A quiet sigh passed Brian's lips when they parted, his hands wandering up a slighter, but firm back as his eyes fluttered open. He gazed up at Chris with an affection that had the blonde hunching his shoulders, ducking his head to hide his own smile. 

"Doing alright, hun?" Brian asked, rubbing a hand between Chris' shoulder blades. 

"Yeah," the smaller man said, letting his head come to rest on Brian's shoulder.

"You're shaking a little," the redhead observed. 

"It happens," Chris said, pressing a kiss to Brian's neck, smiling at the way he huffed. "It'll stop after I get some sleep."

"Is it related to your drinking?" came the question as the bigger man lifted a hand to blonde locks to thread his fingers in messy hair.

"A little bit of that, a little bit nerves. It never lasts long. No need to worry," Chris explained, returning the favor of threading fingers in thick red waves.

"Want to go to bed?" Brian asked, stroking the back of the other's head. The smaller man sat back suddenly, and the redhead barely resisted jumping. 

"We didn't talk about..." Chris trailed off, struggling to keep eye contact with Brian. The bigger man offered a muted smile.

"I didn't mean for that," he promised. "I meant to sleep." A hand went to scratch at his beard in a nervous gesture. "I'd like to hold you tonight if you're be okay with that."

"I- yeah, I'd like that. But, um, I can't sleep in jeans," Chris muttered.

"Then take them off? If you're not comfortable in just your underwear, I'm sure I've got a pair of sweatpants somewhere you could tie up real tight. I usually sleep in just a pair of boxers, but I could put something on if that would make you feel better," Brian offered, his hands back on Chris' hips. 

"You can sleep in boxers, but I'd like those sweats," Chris said with a nod.

"Alright, then," the freckled man said, laughter lining his words. He stood with a grunt, taking a clinging Chris with him. 

"Oh," was all the blonde could say.

"I'm just going to drop you off on my bed, then I'll go find those pants for you," Brian explained, arms wrapped tight around the smaller man. "Hold on tight," and Chris did, clinging to the freckled neck. The blonde gasped and squeezed a thick neck tighter when Brian took a hand from him to open the door to his bedroom. He took the few steps to his bed, depositing the smaller man on it. He pressed his body against the smaller one for a long moment as he leaned over Chris, taking his lips in a kiss, cupping a stubbled cheek as he did. However, he soon pulled back. "I'll go find those pants for you. You can pull the blankets back if you want to." With one more quick peck, he pulled away entirely and turned toward his closet. "Just give me a minute here," he said, pulling open slatted doors. 

Chris took a moment to look around the room. It had a woodsy color palate, the sheets revealed to be a plaid flannel as the hunter green comforter was pulled back. There was little by way of decoration, other than a pictures of Daisy and a couple of tasteful wood pieces lined up perfectly to frame a small, round clock. 

"Ah! Here we are!" Brian said, startling the blonde out of his observations. He tossed the sweats at the slighter man, laughing full and hearty when they landed over Chris' face. "Do you want me to leave for you to change?"

"We're gonna fuck someday, aren't we?" Chris asked with a raised brow.

"W-well, I was hoping," and he trailed off.

"Then I've got nothing to hide," the blonde said, shucking his jeans and flannel. He slipped on the sweats, grinning at the way Brian halfheartedly looked away. With the ties pulled tight and tucked into the waist band, Chris climbed into the bed. "Ooh, so warm and soft," he cooed as he slid under, getting comfortable. 

"You're sure you're alright with me sleeping in only my boxers?" Brian asked, hesitant to strip.

"Yes," Chris said, pulling the sheet and blanket up over his shoulder, "now get in here before I change my mind." He heard the 'fwump' of Brian's pants falling to the floor, followed by other soft sounds of lighter fabrics being piled. Chris gasped when Brian spooned up behind him, pulling the blanket up to his shoulder. He let himself relax when Brian buried his face in his hair, an arm wrapped around his middle. 

"I normally don't like leaving clothes on the floor," Brian rumbled, "but I'll worry about it in the morning. Right now I just want to hold you." 

"'S warm," Chris said, dragging his nails through his partner's thick arm hair.

"Yet you're still shaking."

"Better get to sleep, then," the blonde shot back. 

"Are you really going to be okay, Chris?" Brian asked, brushing his lips over Chris' skin under his ear, down to the neck of his shirt. 

"Yeah," the smaller man promised, nuzzling against Brian's face as best he could. "It's normal. It'll stop by morning." After cooing quietly for a minute at his partner's affectionate touch, the blonde added; "I'll probably have a headache like a hangover in the morning, but lots of water will have me feeling normal again."

"Mm, I'll make sure you drink water tomorrow," Brian promised.

"Let me have a cup of coffee first," Chris whined, already drifting off.

"Just one," Brian said with a little huff of laughter.

"Fine."


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a little bit of sexual content in this chapter, but it's brief and not all that graphic, so I didn't up the rating yet.
> 
> However, I promise the rating will increase at a later date.

The first thing Chris noticed when he woke was the oppressive heat. That was followed by the revaluation that there was a big, firm, nearly naked body pressed against him, an arm wrapped around his middle, and a bulge pressed against his right glute. Brian's breath ruffled Chris' hair, and he shifted his hips on occasion, pushing his morning wood into the cotton clad muscle.

"Oh god," the blonde breathed, squirming until the other's length fell into the dip between his cheeks. Brian's arm tightened around him, and Chris couldn't help but gasp. He pushed back against it until it spread the cheeks as far as the thin cotton he was clad in would allow. He humped back against the stiff prick until guilt got the better of him. "Brian," he said, his voice cracking. The bigger man didn't react, other than to push against him once more. Chris huffed out a curse and dug his nails into the skin of the thick arm around him. "Brian," he said louder, more desperately.

"Mm?" the redhead hummed into his neck, finally starting to wake.

"Enjoying yourself?" the smaller man asked, trying not to let the other see how affected he was by the situation, trying to calm his panting.

"Hunh?" Brian asked, pulling only his head back, his hand that had been pressed against Chris' belly going slack. The bigger man gave a pleased sigh when a firm rear ground back against him. "Sorry," he muttered, voice thick with sleep.

"I don't mind so much," Chris said, laughing breathlessly. "I think I was enjoying myself a bit too much." He stroked his fingers through the course hair on his partner's arm. "I was starting to feel like I was taking advantage of you." Brian laughed, a muted thing as he was still coming into coherence.

"Still," he said, stroking the smaller man's stomach through his shirt as he shifted his hips away until he was no longer dry humping the blonde, "I shouldn't be doing that. Wake me sooner next time."

"Yeah?" Chris asked, something lewd dripping from his voice. "How should I wake you?"

Missing the insinuation, Brian answered honestly; "higher pitched noises get my attention faster. If you really want to get me up in a hurry-" He stopped speaking, leaving his mouth hanging open as the blonde reached back until he found a lightly furred thigh, dragging his sweating palm up the meaty mass until his fingers caught on the leg of Brian's boxers. He sighed out the breath he was holding as Chris twisted his arm behind himself, cupping his hard length. "You don't have to do this," Brian mumbled into the skin of Chris' neck, pushing against the pressure anyway, "but I can't say I'll complain too often."

The blonde chuckled warmly and bared his neck to the other, clever fingers looking for access to the other's underwear. Brian grazed his teeth over the skin offered to him as Chris' hand found it's way inside his fly, biting down carefully to stifle a moan when his turgid prick was wrapped up in long fingers.

It was too dry and too hot, but it felt amazing for Brian, who sighed softly into the moist flesh he'd been nibbling. His orgasm built quickly, pushing into the curled fist, a thumb occasionally swiping over the head of his prick to smear what little moisture there was.

"Chris, I-" he warned, raising his hand to his partner's chest.

"Hey, it's your pants I'm wearing," the blonde teased, lifting his other hand up to thread in Brian's messy waves. The redhead sighed into the back of Chris' head, his face buried in the soft fade as he moved his hand down to catch his seed. The heavy sigh at the back of his ear made Chris huff out a chuckle. "Good morning," he teased as he pulled away enough to turn over and prop himself up on his elbow.

"Great morning," Brian said, leaning forward to steal a kiss.

"Fabulous morning," the blonde countered, pressing another kiss to plush lips. The freckled man smiled sleepily.

"I can return the favor in the shower, if you'd like." Chris seemed to demure at that, looking elsewhere.

"I'm not really a morning sex kinda guy," he said simply. "Besides, it takes me forever to get off anyway. I don't think you'd want to deal with that before you've had your coffee," he teased, turning back to Brian to wink and grin.

"I don't mind, really," Brian promised, hauling himself up as he awkwardly held his emissions in his hand. "I'd like you to feel good, too."

"Baby, I feel great. I've stopped shaking, I'm warm - like sunshine incarnate. I just need to get some coffee in me before I get grumpy," the blonde assured, throwing the blankets off of both of them. "... And before I decide to skip my jog and go back to bed." He slinked out of the plush comfort, stretching, groaning when something gave a painful sounding pop. "Wash your hands and throw on some clothes, because I'm pretty sure you don't want me trying to figure out your fancy coffeemaker." Brian chuckled at the thought and got up.

"Alright, I'll put on some coffee, but I'm holding you to the water drinking," he warned, putting on his best stern face. It didn't have much of an effect with his hair and beard a mess, holding out a soiled hand awkwardly. Chris groaned.

"You remembered," he said miserably.

"I sure did," Brian said, heading to his en-suite bathroom, "and, if you want to go work up an appetite, I'll have a nice big breakfast whipped up for us when you get back."

"Whatcha plannin' on making?" Chris asked, sidling up behind Brian at the sink. He wrapped his arms around the other's middle, burying his face between his shoulder blades.

"Hmm," the redhead hummed, thinking for a moment while he scrubbed his hands. "Banana pancakes?" he asked.

"Sounds great," the smaller man moaned.

"Then I'll get on that while you're out," Brian nearly cheered as he dried his hands on a towel that hung next to the mirror. He then grunted. "I'll comb my hair and beard, too." He braced himself on the sink for a moment, just enjoying the hug. "I hate to break this up," he started after a long moment, "but I really need to empty my bladder."

"No one's stopping you," Chris mumbled into freckles. Brian laughed.

"I don't think we've been together long enough to be using the bathroom in front of each other yet. Do you?" Brian asked, a teasing lilt to his voice.

"It doesn't bother me these days, but I need to pee too, so I'll go use the other bathroom and change back into my jeans," the blonde said, pulling away and hiding a yawn behind his hand.

By the time he'd finished his business, Chris found that Brian had already put coffee on to brew.

"Can I go smoke on the deck while I wait for coffee?" the shorter man asked, scratching his scalp, making more of a mess of his hair.

"Sure, just make sure you throw the butt in the fire pit," Brian offered.

"Thanks- wait, you're walking around in your boxers?"

"I'm not expecting Daisy back until after noon, and I figured you wouldn't mind," Brian explained. He then hunched his shoulders a bit, an unreadable expression flitting over his features. Chris blinked. He thought he may have recognized the look, and decided to go for it, even if he was wrong. He walked over to the other, pressing himself against the freckled body as he leaned back against the counter. Long fingers raked through the trail of hair on Brian's belly.

"I don't mind at all," the blonde growled, a salacious grin on his face. When Brian beamed, he couldn't help but lean up for a kiss. "In fact, I think I like it a bit too much. It's distracting me."

"From what?"

"Smoking."

Brian laughed. "Good," he said with a firm nod.

When Chris returned from his cigarette, the two had coffee and listened to the morning news. True to his word, Brian took Chris' coffee mug once he was finished and vanished to the kitchen, returning with a tall glass of ice water.

The blonde returned home to change for his jog, winding up back at Brian's place in his own sweats a little over an hour later.

"I'm back," he called, closing the door behind him.

"Welcome back," Brian called from the kitchen. As the shorter man entered the room, Maxwell bounding up to him happily, the redhead continued; "You left your phone here, and it's been going off with Dadbook messages for a while."

Maxwell yapped when Chris stopped petting him. The blonde raised a brow, asking; "Yeah?" He was a little disappointed that Brian was fully dressed and had brushed his hair and beard as promised, but the cute apron he wore offset Chris' saddened feeling at not getting to look at the man more.

"It's on the table. I didn't look at anything, but someone really wants to talk to you."

"It's Robert," Chris said with a snort. He read the messages, scoffing.

 _I saw u do that walk of shame._  
_Did you touch his dick yet?_  
_Did he touch ur dick?_  
_Hey_  
_Don't go jogging_  
_Come back and talk to me._  
_Ratte_  
_Raaaaaatte_  
_Where's ur name from, anyway?_  
_Is that German?_  
_Herr Ratte, wer berührt den Schwanz._  
_Or something like that._  
_Wait, this is better: Herr Ratte; Wer berührt Schwänze._  
_R U going to jog all day?_  
_What's with you workout weirdos on this street?_  
_DON'T GO BACK TO BRIAN'S_  
_dammit_  
_I have details on the whole Hugo thing._

As Brian loaded a plate with pancakes for Chris, the blonde responded;

_Do tell?_

_He lives!_  
_But no_  
_You ignored me for the last hour, so I want dick-touching details about your scandalous night spent with the resident not-twink before I tell you anything._

"Thanks, sweetheart," Chris said when a heaped plate and utensils were set before him. He smiled up at Brian, who returned the gesture, a dash of pink across his cheeks. The redhead grabbed a plate for himself, and brought a warmed jar of syrup and a handheld tray of softened butter.

"What's Robert saying?" he asked when he sat down across from the shorter man. Chris gave a sad little 'aww' when he realized Brian had removed the apron. He then snorted once he'd processed what the other asked.

"I don't think you want to know," he said cryptically. The redhead looked up from slathering his pancakes with butter.

"Is it bad?"

"Nah, he's just asking for personal details. Here, look," the shorter man said, setting his phone on the table and pushing it over to other. Brian set his knife aside and read the messages while Chris buttered two of the pancakes on his plate. "I am not going to be able to eat all of this," he said. Brian looked up for a moment.

"I know you can. I remember how much you ate at the fair," he teased.

"The intestinal distress wasn't worth it," Chris groaned. Brian huffed out a laugh and turned his attention back to the messages.

"What's this German mean?"

"'He who touches dicks,' or something like it," the blonde supplied.

"Do you speak German?"

"Ish," Chris answered, drizzling syrup over his fluffy mountain of food. "I studied it in college, but didn't do all that well."

"What's 'not all that well'?" Brian asked.

"Getting a C each of four semesters," came the answer from around a mouthful of pancakes. "Oh muh gahd these are good," the blonde moaned.

"Glad you like them," Brian said, hunching his shoulders a bit with a big smile. "What's going on with Robert and Hugo?"

"It's a dance as old as time," Chris said, lifting his chin. "One man wants to get fucked, another man wants to fuck him, neither will come out and say it, so they tease and withdraw, make half-assed passes at each other, and later one whines to his buddy that he wants some dick, but won't do anything to actually get some from the guy he wants it from." Brian dissolved into a fit of giggles.

Once he calmed, he passed Chris' phone back to him and they started eating.

"What are you going to tell him?" After a minute, Brian added; "If you don't mind me asking."

"Nothing, probably. I can be as cryptic as he likes to be." Chris thought for a moment as he stuffed nearly half a pancake in his mouth. "Or, maybe," and he stopped to swallow, "I could stick to my assholish guns and make him jealous." A pleasant red flush returned to the bigger man's cheeks.

"How would you do that?" Brian mumbled the question, taking a sip of his coffee. "Oh!" he said, and stood up. "Let me get you another cup of coffee," he said, and headed to the coffeemaker.

"Water still might be better at this point, but another cup of coffee wouldn't hurt," Chris said as he stood. "Still interested in how I'd make him jealous?" he asked as he slid in behind Brian, wrapping his arms around the other.

"Yeah," the redhead said breathlessly. Chris grinned against the other's back, moving his hands down to the fronts of Brian's thighs.

"I'd tell him how big your dick really is, describe it in great detail. Lie and say we fucked, use some flowery language that'll leave him panting," he said, dragging his hands up until they rested over his partner's hips.

"It's not that big," was all Brian could say, his voice barely above a whisper.

"It's more than a handful," the blonde said with a chuckle before he pulled away. He accepted a cup of sweet coffee when Brian turned around. "I need to shower soon," Chris said.

"Oh," and Brian scratched at his beard.

"You showered while I was jogging, didn't you?"

"No, actually. I was hoping you might be up to bathing together," the freckled man said, pulling at the hair on his jaw absently. "I have a Jacuzzi tub we could both probably fit in if you'd be alright with that," he muttered.

"You would have a Jacuzzi tub," Chris said with a shake of his head. "I suppose I could be up for that if we talked about the one Big Thing beforehand."

"One Big Thing?" Brian asked, heading back toward the table, gesturing for the blonde to follow.

Chris busied himself with cutting up what was left of his pancakes into bite-sized bits as he spoke; "It's not something I really like talking about, but I kinda have to if I don't want someone to accuse me of 'misleading' them," he said with an air of distaste.

"Oh, that," Brian said suddenly, putting a hand to his chest. He gave a relieved sigh and picked his utensils back up. "I already know. There's no need to worry about any of that."

"You do?"

"Yeah," the redhead said, slathering more butter on his single remaining pancake.

"How?" the blonde asked, one brow raised as he stuffed his mouth with a bite.

"I, um," and Brian stammered for a moment, putting his fork to his lips, "may have seen your testosterone in your refrigerator when I was putting our leftovers in there yesterday. I mean," he continued, his voice dropping to a mumble as he continued, "I had thought that might have been the case before, since around the time we went fishing, but that confirmed it.

"... and Robert may have messaged me a few days ago, asking if I'd seen your... 'clone dick,' as he put it, and he wanted to know if it was," he trailed off awkwardly for a moment, "as big as he thought it was. I may have asked him why he thought you had a 'clone dick' and, well, you understand, I'm sure."

"I'm gonna kill him," Chris deadpanned, wiping the corner of his mouth with his fingers.

"I think killing him is a little bit strong of a reaction to him being interested in your, uh, genitals, isn't it?" Brian asked, his face practically glowing with his blush.

"Nope. Dead Robert will wash up on the shore, stabbed to death with something from Joseph's boat, and minister boy will take the fall and we'll live happily ever after in our little slice of suburbia, free of nosy, drama starting neighbors and guys who talk about my genitals behind my back." The bigger man gave a nervous laugh. "I'm kidding," Chris said. Brian seemed apprehensive, like he was waiting for something. "I really am kidding. I'm not going to kill my best friend." Brian then gave another sigh of relief, which faded into soft puffs of laughter. "It wouldn't hurt him to learn some damn manners, though," the blonde grumbled.

"Maybe Hugo will help him with that," Brian suggested.

"One can hope," Chris gave with a nod. He pushed the two pancakes left on his plate toward Brian, who ate them without question while the blonde messaged Robert.

_I don't think you've earned any details after you went and told Brian about my dick._

_Dude_  
_I was drunk and horny_

_No excuses._

"So, were you alright with my plan of making Robert jealous?" Chris asked, looking over his phone at the other.

"Well, if you wouldn't lie," he said, looking away after brief eye contact.

"Cool," the shorter man said with a grin.

 _However, if you really must know..._  
_I did touch his dick this morning._  
_It's glorious._

_Yeah?_

_Oh yeah._  
_Bulbous head, long, fat shaft, and throbbing veins under such soft skin._  
_You wouldn't believe it._

 _Fuck_  
_I bet he's got a bush 2._  
_Bet it smells great when u_  
_nevermind_  
_Fuck I'm horny_  
_Oh, speaking of..._  
_Did u?_

 _Not yet._  
_Might get around to it here in a little bit. We're going to go take a bath together soon._  
_That means you've got about five minutes to spill those Hugo details._

 _Dude_  
_I can't do all that in 5 minutes._  
_I'll just tell u in person when I bring ur DVDs back._  
_Which I'll b bringing back l8er today._  
_When will u b home?_

 _In a couple hours, I assume._  
_I'll let you know._  
_But I expect all the gory details if you don't want me to be mad at you over gossiping about my dick._

_Yes sir._

Chris chucked his phone on the table.

"So, a Jacuzzi, huh?"

Brian grinned brightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've stuck with me this far, drop me a line and let me know what you think so far!
> 
> Unfortunately, as class is about to be in session again, updates will start coming at a slower rate. Best I can promise is once a week, but I'll try for two.


End file.
